


The Farmer and the Prince

by AsexualDerek (Cammerel)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Arranged Marriage, Brother/Sister Incest, Consensual Underage Sex, Depression, F/M, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Incest, M/M, Sibling Incest, Slavery, Suicide Threats, Underage Kissing, Underage Sex, Unwanted sexual situations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-05-21 11:18:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 29,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6049623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cammerel/pseuds/AsexualDerek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arranged marriages are for suckers. Stiles doesn’t care what he has to do to get out of his, he’ll do it. Even if it means running away from all he’s ever known.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Arrangement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles - 15  
> Scott - 24  
> Derek - 40

“Can’t you have another kid with one of the village women?” Stiles asks his dad desperately as he paces around the inside of his room, “Better idea! How about we just not do this at all? They’re not gonna pillage us if we don’t.”

John sighs and rubs his forehead as he watches his son, eyes following him warily, “Most of your peers would be **excited** about this arrangement if they were in your place, Stiles. He’s the most respected king on the west side of the states, I… I thought you’d be more enthusiastic. You like werewolves.”

“I do, you know that’s not the problem,” Stiles explains and stops pacing to face his father, glancing down at his feet briefly, “I-It’s just-he’s awful. Like, I don’t understand how he’s the most respected, you know? Out of kings that are respected, there has to be someone who’s respected more. I don’t like him.”

“I didn’t really like your mother all that much when I was arranged to marry her,” John tries to reason with him, but at this point, he’s getting tired of trying to justify it - sons should obey their fathers. It’s an arranged marriage, not a proposal, “That’s just how it is, sometimes.”

“Why do you always have to bring mom into it?” Stiles presses and then turns away to pace again, not nearly as frantic this time, “With you and her, it was love at first sight. It’s not always like that with everyone else. And… arranged marriages have been a thing for hundreds of years now, it’s barbaric, being betrothed. I don’t want to marry him,” he scrunches his face up in contempt.

John shrugs dismissively, chuckling at the expression on his face, “Too bad, it’s not up for discussion, Stiles. You’re a prince, and this is the sacrifice you have to make. It’s your duty to your people to provide them with a constant growth in this country. And, to be frank, we don’t have much of an option in this, regardless. Our farms are suffering, we’ve been receding for nearly ten years.”

“We could find another way,” Stiles insists, “If he’s willing to take me, as young as I am, then he’d probably be just as content with one of the other children from our clan. Like you said, the others would be excited to be in my place.”

“Except that you’re of **royal** blood,” John responds and stands from his seat, “And this isn’t up for discussion, Stiles.”

Stiles clenches his jaw together and shakes his head, sighing, “ _Dlaczego nienawidzisz mnie, tato?_ ” he asks rhetorically, “He’ll probably kill me the first time he takes me. Werewolves aren’t known for restraint.”

“They aren’t known for restraint in combat, this would be different, and you **know** that,” John says, crossing his arms, “And I don’t hate you, this is simply your responsibility. Not everything you’ll do in your life is going to be something you’ll want.”

“You must hate me if you’re condemning me to a life of misery with that beast,” Stiles nearly shouts, flailing and pointing towards the door of his room, “Everything about him is an act, he’s not kind,” he tries to lay it on thick, hoping to convince his dad, “Please, don’t make me do this.”

John sighs in frustration when there’s a knock on the door and he glares at Stiles, pressing his lips together firmly before moving to the door to answer it. He glances back at Stiles when the foot soldier standing there tells him that Derek and the rest of his pack have arrived and he nods to the man. Turning back to his son, he motions to the room vaguely, “Get dressed, we have guests. And I don’t want to hear another word about this, Stiles. It isn’t a debate.”

“I **am** dressed,” Stiles argues with his father, because sometimes he hates being held so firmly to the standards of being a prince.

“Dress like you mean it,” John says and leaves the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Hardly a moment passes though before there’s another, softer knock on the door.

“I’m working on it!” Stiles snaps as he tugs the silken tunic on over his head, pulling his fancy, prince-like trousers from a drawer to hop into them.

The door opens then and Derek lets himself in, closing it back behind himself, “It’s just me.”

Stiles lets out a breath when he sees the werewolf and he grabs his crown from the pillow on his vanity, plopping it gracelessly on his head before holding his hands out at Derek, “Do I look like a prince?”

“You look fine to me,” Derek says dismissively as he walks over to Stiles, “So I take it you tried talking to your father again?”

“Yeah,” Stiles nods in frustration, “He’s just not hearing it. You’re a king, you know? You could easily put a stop to this yourself.”

“I can’t dishonor my mother’s dying wishes,” Derek responds and shakes his head, “Just like you, I’m bound by the same rules.” He reaches up to tilt Stiles’s crown more to the center, “You know that for me, it’s more than just a tradition.”

“This isn’t fair,” Stiles says softly, “My dad, he won’t see reason. I’ve tried. What are we gonna do?”

Derek frowns and lowers his voice, “I don’t want this anymore than you do, you know I don’t,” he touches Stiles’s shoulders, “But we might not have a choice in the matter. At least… not to cancel the arrangement.”

Stiles narrows his eyes and searches Derek’s face curiously, trying to figure out what he means, “ _Do you have an idea?_ ” he asks quietly.

Derek reaches out past Stiles, taking up the quill on the table and dunking it in the small pot of ink there before writing out ‘ _Agree_ ’ on a slip of parchment on the desk before he looks Stiles in the eyes, “I want to take you, the night before the wedding.”

Stiles observes the scrawl and narrows his brows, looking back to the older man skeptically, “Yeah, okay,” he agrees, playing along.

“You would have to leave your kingdom,” Derek says as his brows lift and he reaches out to touch Stiles’s back, “You would have to come back with me, and stay in the undergrounds.”

“That’s… where I’d have to stay anyway, right?” Stiles asks back in confusion.

“That’s right.”

“Alright then,” Stiles utters unsurely, instilling an uncomfortable amount of trust in Derek.

Derek smiles and nods, leading Stiles over to the bed and pulling him down to lay with him, his arms wrapping around the small boy while being mindful to tug off his crown, “I’ll make plans,” he says softly, narrowing his eyes, “Just… pack your things. Anything you don’t want to be without.”

“ _Is anyone listening to us?_ ” Stiles whispers and looks at Derek questioningly.

“Normally,” Derek says vaguely and meets his gaze, “Never put it past them.”

“Should I say goodbye to my dad?” Stiles asks him then.

“Probably.”

Stiles isn’t particularly fond of the idea, of having to say goodbye to his dad for good. But as much as he loves his dad, he’s also not willing to wed a man he’s not in love with just so his people can benefit from it. Call it stubborn, selfish, whatever you like, but he’s not a sheep and he’s not just going to do what he’s told and conform to what’s expected of him.

“We should be going,” Derek says and stands back up, taking Stiles with him and handing him back his crown, “Your father is getting impatient.”

“Of course he is,” Stiles puts the crown back atop his head and offers Derek a tight, sad smile, “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dlaczego nienawidzisz mnie, tato? - Why do you hate me, dad?
> 
>  
> 
> \----
> 
> There are also fics in the [Vault](http://cammerel.tumblr.com/Fic%20Sorter) that I may never post. And I’m even werking on an original werewolf story, so if that sounds enticing to you at all, you can always ask me about it on Tumblr or via e-mail.   
>  -Cammerel


	2. The Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles - 15  
> Scott - 24  
> Derek - 40

Derek opens the large, thick metal door and motions for Stiles to go in before him, glancing at the two werewolf soldiers stationed outside the room before following in after him, “I need to go in a few minutes, but I’ll stay long enough to help you get settled in.”

Stiles looks at Derek flatly as he enters the room, waiting until the older man closes the door, “Is that sound proof?”

“It is,” Derek says when he’s locked it into place, “It’s safe to talk now.”

“So when are you gonna tell me your plan?” Stiles asks, because so far, other than confirming that he needed to say his goodbyes, Derek’s kept him in the dark.

Derek moves to Stiles, reaching up to take off his crown, “I don’t have much time to explain it to you before I go. But you need to get changed, don’t unpack anything, you’ll be leaving this room just moments after I do. I also need you to write and sign a note explaining that you’ve ran away from home. Something that you think would convince your father to not go looking for you. It’s best to be honest.”

“He’ll send men to look for me,” Stiles tells Derek knowingly, “Nothing I could say would convince him not to, I’m his heir.”

“Trust me, he won’t find you,” Derek responds as he sets the clothes out, “We’re having you moved north, my sister is taking you on her trip to settle a deal with the Argents. There, she’ll drop you off before she reaches the castle, have you settled in a place to stay temporarily, with enough in room and board until you find work. It won’t be easy, but at least this way you’ll be able to make your own choices.”

Stiles stares at Derek, surprised that the older man thought everything through so thoroughly, “Thank you,” he says sincerely, and with emotion as he wraps his arms around Derek to hug him.

Derek wraps his arms around Stiles as well, practically engulfing him, “I’m giving you a weapon, too, to defend yourself in case anything happens. My scent should be enough for some time, to keep werewolves away. But humans… just try to remain quiet, mysterious. People that are overly enthusiastic stand out.”

“Okay, so, basically just act like you and I should be good,” Stiles teases and pulls back to smile at Derek, “Thank you, seriously.”

Derek smirks slightly and reaches up to touch Stiles’s hair, “A little dirt might help as well, most commoners aren’t that clean. Try skipping baths from now on.”

“Knew there was gonna be a downside to this whole thing,” Stiles sighs, “I’ve been a spoiled brat my whole life, I don’t know how to do ‘common’.”

“Cora will help you out,” Derek says as he moves back to the door, “Your clothes are out, get dressed. Write the letter. Leave your crown. Cora will be here within the next thirty minutes.”

Stiles nods subtly and watches Derek, “ _Dowidzenia, przyjacielu_.”

Derek nods slightly, “Just be safe,” he says before he leaves the room, closing the door firmly behind himself.

Stiles moves almost at once and gets dressed into something less flashy, leaving his other clothes on Derek’s bed before he sits down to write his note. He keeps it as simple and as to the point as he can, letting his father know that he doesn’t want to be looked for, and that he loves him. After that, he just waits anxiously. Nervous, yet looking forward to the new and different life that awaits him.

The door opens nearly thirty minutes later, just as Derek had told him, and a girl pokes her head into the room, “ _Pst, come on, cutie_ ,” she says, smiling widely.

Stiles looks up in bewilderment, looking around to make sure she’s talking to him, despite being the only person in the room. He grabs his bag and gets up, moving to the door, “ _Are you Cora?_ ” he asks, hushed.

“ _The one and only_ ,” Cora says and offers him a dagger, “ _Your weapon_ ,” then she reaches up to pull his hood over his head, “ _Keep quiet now_.”

Stiles nods and ducks his head down, tucking the dagger into the waist of his pants as he steps out of the room cautiously to follow her.

Cora stands back upright and walks Stiles through the back tunnels, out to the opening on the north side and she pushes the door open. She motions to a wagon there, “ _Get inside and wait for me_.”

Stiles moves to the wagon and shoves the back flap aside to climb in, crawling to one of the corners and waiting as patiently as possible. It’s a little nerve wracking, because if they get caught, he’ll probably be executed or something; his title aside.

A few more minutes pass before Cora pokes her head through the flaps and holds a silent thumbs up at him, then she motions to the side, “ _Food_ ,” she says so soft that it’s barely a whisper and she reaches out to motion to the box by him, then she hands him a container, “ _Water_.”

Stiles graciously takes the container and puts it down next to him, “ _Thank you_ ,” he says back, just as softly.

“ _Stay down_ ,” Cora says then and smiles at him, then she leaves, walking around to the front of the carriage before motioning to her coach, “We can go now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dowidzenia, przyjacielu. - Goodbye, friend.
> 
> \---
> 
> Remember that there are also fics in the [Vault](http://cammerel.tumblr.com/Fic%20Sorter) that I may never post. And I’m even werking on an original werewolf story, so if that sounds enticing to you at all, you can always ask me about it on Tumblr or via e-mail.  
> -Cammerel


	3. The Farmer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles - 15  
> Scott - 24  
> Derek - 40

When Cora drops Stiles off in the last small town before they reach the Argent castle, she gives Stiles some food, money, and water to hold himself off for sometime. He’s pretty convincing right off the bat, and manages to get himself into a place to stay for almost a month, but before he’s even two weeks into it, he’s out of both food **and** water, and he still hasn’t found a job.

He didn’t even think about trying to pace himself, Stiles has never had to go without food before, and on the second day of not having anything to eat, he starts to feel a little crazy. Money is short, because he spent it all on his room, so he starts selling the things he packed, starting with what he can go without.

Unfortunately, that goes by pretty quickly as well, and he gets kicked out of the room he’s been staying in when the month is up. He’s out of money, he has no food, and he hasn’t had anything to drink in nearly three days. Stiles really starts to regret leaving his nice, comfortable castle to deal with this. He’s beginning to think marrying Derek wouldn’t be so bad, as long as he wouldn’t have to starve like this.

Since he doesn’t have any place to stay, he starts wandering around the countryside, looking for anything he can find. Fortunately, the town isn’t that far from a stream, so he’s able to drink from it (granted, it doesn’t taste that good, and he gets horribly sick drinking from it). It’s still better than nothing.

After a couple more days of wandering around and dry heaving the little water he has in his system, he finds a farm. A really, really nice, large farm. At this point, Stiles is so hungry that he doesn’t feel bad about taking the food, hurriedly moving around the tree to start eating one of the three tomatoes he’s grabbed. He’s never been a fan of the slimy fruit, considering it tastes like rotten water buggers or something, but his stomach groans along with him. He might as well be eating a nice, medium rare steak for all he cares.

Scott lies the man made tiller down when he hears rustling in his tomato patch, it’s probably deer or that stupid rabbit that won’t leave his crops alone. He rounds his hut quietly and looks around, unable to see the culprit. He can hear it, though. And it doesn’t sound like an animal, it sounds like a human, and the human sounds ravenous.

Following the sounds, Scott steps lightly and grabs an ear of corn, a couple carrots and another tomato. He finds a younger boy hunkered down by a tree, eating so quickly that he knows he’ll probably end up getting sick, especially if he’s that hungry.

“You should slow down,” Scott suggests calmly.

Stiles nearly jumps five feet into the air, choking on a bite of tomato and he starts coughing and spluttering, the juice from the fruit practically covering his chin and streaming down his neck when he sees the man and he gets up to make a run for it, dropping the rest of the tomatoes. As hungry as he is, it really isn’t worth getting his hands chopped off.

“Hey!” Scott calls out in confusion and picks up the tomatoes the boy didn’t eat, running after him with the vegetables pocketed in his shirt, “Hey, wait, it’s okay!”

Despite the words, Stiles doesn’t stop or glance back, the guy could just be saying that so he stops and gets caught, “I’m sorry, I won’t take anything else,” he shouts back weakly, closing his eyes as his stomach starts to ache again at just the prospect of going without food again.

“I said it’s okay,” Scott stops running then to show the boy he doesn’t mean any harm, “Look!” he tries to get his attention, putting all the vegetables on the ground before backing away, “If you’re gonna go, please, take these.”

Stiles turns to look back in confusion, eyes dropping to the food but he gasps in pain when he runs right into a tree and knocks himself back off his feet.

Scott cringes sympathetically and breaks out into a brisk jog to get to the boy, crouching down and offering a hand, “Are you okay?” he asks worriedly.

Stiles sits up stiffly, eyes squeezed shut as he ignores the pounding headache he has now, “ _Ze mną wszystko w porządku_.”

Scott narrows his brows in confusion, because it’s a language he’s never heard before, but he smiles awkwardly, “What does that mean?”

“I… I’m okay,” Stiles says and looks up at the man standing over him. He gets up, not taking the hand the guy is holding out for him and he brushes off his back the best he can, “I’ll live, I think.” He starts to move, practically limping, but he pulls together as much of what little pride he has left to try and leave again.

“You’re being ridiculous,” Scott tells the stranger and observes the way he’s walking, “At the least, you’ve sprained an ankle. You won’t make it far.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been through worse,” Stiles responds flatly. He kind of hasn’t, other than practically starving for the last half of the month, but it’s close enough.

“Let me help,” Scott offers then, “I can wrap your ankle and there’s stew on. Please.”

Stiles stops and looks back at the man skeptically, “ _Why_ would you wanna help me? I was just stealing things from your farm. Aren’t you like… really angry?”

“You’re starving,” Scott says knowingly, “And I’m probably the first farm you’ve come across in weeks. Why would I be angry that you’re trying to stay alive?”

“Because I was **stealing your food**?” Stiles guesses, tone flat when he repeats himself, “I was stealing your food, whether or not I’m hungry, that’s like… yours.”

Scott steps to the side and motions back to the vegetables he sat on the ground, “You don’t have to steal - you can have it.”

Stiles frowns and finally sighs in defeat, “Okay,” he says, “But you really might have to help me, I’m not sure if walking is a good thing right now.”

Scott’s surprised at how agreeable the boy is, but he moves to him and picks him up effortlessly. His crops are doing well, so he doesn’t bother picking the vegetables up from the ground as he takes the stranger to his hut, “What’s your name?”

“Uhm…” Stiles narrows his brows and glances away, “My… my name’s Derek,” he says and clears his throat, “You?”

“I’m Scott,” Scott supplies, and doesn’t press for the boy’s real name when he hears the lie, “Where’s your family, your village?”

“I… I ran away,” Stiles says honestly, “And yeah, I know you’re probably gonna try to lecture me, but don’t bother. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“Did you have a good reason?” Scott asks then and nudges the hut door open with his foot, carrying the boy inside and sitting him at the table.

Stiles lifts a brow as his eyes wander around the small house, it’s **barely** a house, but he doesn’t say anything or complain, “Yeah. I had a _really_ good reason. And no, I don’t want to share.”

“Okay,” Scott shrugs simply and moves to grab some bandaging, testing the elasticity to make sure it’s not dry rotted before ambling back around to sit in front of him, “Gimme your leg.”

Stiles warily holds his foot out, “So you uh… you run the farm yourself?” he asks curiously, trying to give Scott the benefit of the doubt, “Like it’s just you?”

“Yeah, it’s just me,” Scott confirms and positions the leg on his knee, beginning to wrap the swollen ankle, “You sound surprised.”

“Seems like a lot for one person to take on,” Stiles says, chuckling, but wincing as his ankle shifts, “Where’s **your** family?”

Scott brushes his palm against the side of the boy’s calve and takes some of his pain, “Dad ran off when I was young, and my mom’s indentured to the king.”

“Ah,” Stiles barely manages out and he looks away then, “How long have you been on your own?”

“Since I was sixteen,” Scott admits and fixes the bandage so that it won’t come loose before gently putting the boy’s foot back down, “Are you still hungry?”

“Uhm, yeah,” Stiles says, laughing, “I’ve barely eaten anything in like… a week.” He swallows, “But I-I don’t need much.”

Scott gets up and moves to the fire, stirring the stew in the pot above it before grabbing a wooden bowl. He pours three or four generous ladle fulls into it before handing it, along with a piece of bread, to the boy, “You’re welcome to stay here until you feel better.”

Stiles doesn’t even respond, taking the bowl and the bread and splitting it into pieces to dunk it. It doesn’t take long for him to stuff his face full, cheeks puffing out as he eats and his whole face flushing from the heat of the stew.

Scott watches him for a few moments, then pours some water from his pitcher into a cup for the boy, setting it down in front of him. If the boy won’t stay and gain his strength, the least he can do is help and send some food with him.

“If n’at gon mah me fick?” Stiles asks warily, his mouth still full as he eyes the water.

Scott narrows his brows, “What?”

Stiles swallows enough to talk properly, “Is that gonna make me sick?” he repeats, “I tried the stream a bit… and I’ve been sick for like… a week now.”

“It won’t make you sick,” Scott shakes his head, “I’ve boiled it, it’s safe,” he explains, lifting the cup to take a drink himself, “See?”

Stiles makes a face, “And now you’ve drank out of my glass,” he complains.

Scott’s eyes narrow pensively then and he looks at the wooden cup, then back to the boy, “You’re not a commoner, are you?” he asks knowingly.

“I-” Stiles’s cheeks flush, “Of course I’m a commoner,” he says, turning back to his food to avoid saying anything else.

Most commoners wouldn’t cringe at the thought of drinking after someone else, or accidentally call a wooden cup a glass, but Scott lets it go, even though he knows the boy is still lying to him, “I’ll get you a different one,” he says distantly, pouring more water into a different cup before sitting it down.

Stiles looks at the glass and then takes a sip of it, nearly groaning in approval, “T-thanks, sir,” he says lowly, he knows his manners, and so far he hasn’t been nice to Scott.

“You don’t have to call me sir,” Scott tells him and sits down across the table from him, “Just tell me that my farm isn’t going to be burnt to the ground for helping you.”

“Burnt to the ground?” Stiles asks in confusion, frowning before he practically downs the glass of water.

“You’ve been lying to me this whole time,” Scott points out casually and sips from the cup he took a drink from before, “You’re not a commoner. I just wanna make sure I’m not gonna be hung for helping you.”

Stiles’s eyes widen and his heart starts racing as he licks his lips and sits back in his seat, “What… what makes you think I’m lying?”

“I can hear your heart beats?” Scott guesses and then chuckles.

“You’re a werewolf,” Stiles says then, feeling his blood run cold as he glances at the door.

“You’re thinking about running,” Scott observes, “Why?”

“I dunno,” Stiles says sarcastically, “If you know I’ve been lying and you know I’m not just a typical, run of the day citizen, then you could probably stand to make a nice profit if you turned me in.” _Or any **number** of other things_, Stiles is, after all, just a boy still - Scott could easily overpower him.

“I make due with my crops,” Scott explains, “I’m not exactly looking to make a profit.” He leans against the table, looking Stiles over. He’s not a werewolf, so he’s not Hale clan, which only means one thing, “Are you the prince?”

Stiles blinks at the question, “The… prince?” he asks, trying not to show how worried he is.

“The prince,” Scott confirms and nods, waiting, “The one that ran away?”

“Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stiles says and stands up, moving from the table, “Thanks for your hospitality and all that, but I should get going.” Just walking on his foot hurts, but Stiles is determined to leave as fast as he can.

“You can hardly walk,” Scott stands up as well, “And I have no way to send word, even if I wanted to… and I don’t. Everyone knows you were betrothed to Hale, it would be… understandable… running away,” he says tentatively.

“Really?” Stiles asks then, stopping and crossing his arms, “That’s understandable to someone like you? You think you actually know what that’s like?”

“Being promised to someone you don’t love?” Scott asks rhetorically, “I do, actually. My mom is indentured to the Hales so that I can have my freedom.”

Stiles huffs and looks away, “At least your mother was willing to do that for you. My father didn’t really care that much. To him, I’m just as expendable as money or goods.”

“Regardless,” Scott says, “I’m saying I understand, and I’m not passing any judgement. I’m not a prince, like you, but I get it.”

“Ugh, stop saying that, okay?” Stiles practically gags, “I’m not a prince, so let’s just forget this little exchange ever happened and move on with our lives.”

“Fine,” Scott concedes and grabs a burlap bag by the fireplace, politely stepping past the boy to get outside so that he can fill the bag with food. If the boy wants to go, he won’t beg him to stay.

Stiles glances out the door before following after Scott, “Uh… what are you doing?”

“Packing you some food?” Scott lifts his gaze to the boy for a moment, then shoves some more corn in the bag as he steps between the stalks.

“... Why?” Stiles asks after he follows Scott, “You’ve already helped me out, okay? You don’t… **I** don’t want you to help me anymore.”

Scott stops and tilts his head at the boy, “So you’d rather starve?” he asks in confusion.

Stiles chuckles and holds his arms out to his sides, “I’ve been starving the last like… two weeks, trust me, I’m okay. I’ll… figure out something.”

Scott watches the boy for a long, drawn out moment, then ambles closer to him and offers the bag, “Just take it.”

“No,” Stiles says lowly and takes a step back, “This is your food, and I’m not taking it.”

“The nearest farm or town is about twenty to thirty miles that way,” Scott motions behind the boy, persistently holding the bag out, “If you don’t take it, you won’t make it.”

Stiles shakes his head and backs away again, “I’ll be fine,” he turns around to go in the direction Scott pointed out, at least he has an idea of **where** to go, “I’m not any of your concern, okay? So just… forget it, keep your food.”

Scott sighs, because he can’t, in good conscience, let the boy go without food, “Okay, well, I guess I’m coming with you,” he says, slinging the sack over his shoulder.

“So you’re gonna leave your farm unattended?” Stiles challenges, glancing back at him.

“You’re not really giving me much of a choice,” Scott responds and catches up with him.

“Go away,” Stiles says somewhat firmly, straightening up his posture even though it hurts him just doing it, “Go back to your farm, commoner, and leave me alone.”

“Your ‘prince’ is showing,” Scott snorts, but doesn’t budge.

Stiles narrows his eyes as he stops and turns to look at Scott fully, his hands on his hips, “Don’t… _say that so loud_.”

“Who’s gonna hear me?” Scott teases and looks around.

“I don’t know, literally anyone,” Stiles guesses, “It’s not safe to just throw around the ‘p’ word.”

“I don’t live near anyone,” Scott points out, “And I’m a werewolf. I would hear if there were others nearby.”

Stiles narrows his brows, “That’s still not a good enough reason to use it. It’s my title, and if I tell you not to say it, you should listen to me.”

“Oh,” Scott chuckles in amusement, eyes widening, “I’m so sorry, your highness.”

“Okay, now you’re being rude and disrespectful,” Stiles says, getting more annoyed before he starts walking again, “Go **home** , Scott.”

“You’re the prince, it’s my duty to at least make sure you make it to wherever you’re going safely.”

“It’s not your duty to make sure of anything,” Stiles responds and glances at him again, “I’m not _your_ prince, so move on and leave me be.”

“You **were** my prince,” Scott corrects him, “I wasn’t born a werewolf, so no.”

Stiles sighs and shrugs, “Well, I’m still not your prince now, so I’m none of your concern **now**.”

“I just want to help,” Scott insists earnestly, “Please, just let me help.”

“Giving me food won’t help me,” Stiles says, finally stopping again to look at him, “I don’t **have** anything. Giving me food is just gonna make it harder for me to provide for myself.”

“If you don’t want food, then tell me how to help you,” Scott responds, searching the boy’s eyes.

“ **Why** is it so important for you to help me?” Stiles asks then and crosses his arms, “Why does it matter so much for you? You don’t know me, you don’t know anything about me. You know that I’m not above stealing, so why help me?”

“Why do I have to know anything about you to want to help you?” Scott asks back in way of a response, “Why can’t I just want to help you because it’s the right thing to do?”

Stiles frowns at the comment, and as nice as it would be, he doesn’t believe it, “Because people don’t work that way. People want things, all the time. People want things, people want favors, exchange - that’s always something.

“What do you want, Scott? You’re a werewolf. And as you said before, you don’t want money. And now you know that I’m a prince, you could probably make a lot from it, or labor, or s-something else. Or my healthy, fertile, virgin loins or something.”

Scott takes a step back and frowns at all the things the prince is saying, subtly shaking his head, “You’re too young to be so jaded,” he mumbles, setting the bag down before backing away a little more, “Be safe,” he tells him, then heads back to his hut.

Stiles blinks in confusion and he doesn’t really understand what just happened, but he eyes the bag a second before huffing at it and turning his back to the bag, “You’re not helping me.” He stares ahead through the woods nervously, but keeps walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ze mną wszystko w porządku. - I’m okay.
> 
> \---
> 
> Remember that there are also fics in the [Vault](http://cammerel.tumblr.com/Fic%20Sorter) that I may never post. And I’m even werking on an original werewolf story, so if that sounds enticing to you at all, you can always ask me about it on Tumblr or via e-mail.   
>  -Cammerel


	4. The Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles - 15  
> Scott - 24  
> Derek - 40

Stiles doesn’t get that far from the farm before he starts feeling really thirsty. The food was a nice, temporary boost, and he probably should’ve went back for the backpack, but his pride got the better of him. Eventually, after the third hour or so - he isn’t sure - he starts listening out for any sound of rushing water. It’ll probably just make him sick again, but he doesn’t even care, he’s so thirsty.

It takes nearly thirty more minutes, but he does find one and immediately starts swallowing mouthful after mouthful of it, taking off the wrapping on his foot once he’s had enough and he puts his legs in the water, sighing and dropping back to stare up at the sky, the stars starting to come out now that it’s getting darker.

“You know it’ll make you sick, but you drink it anyway,” Scott observes, standing away from the stream against a tree.

Stiles startles and looks at Scott, eyes popping wide open as he sits up, “You-you’ve been following me?”

“You’re easy to follow,” Scott shrugs, “You don’t cover your tracks and you’re loud.”

“Yeah well,” Stiles looks back to the water, “It’s not like I was trying to be super stealthy,” he says as he wiggles his legs back and forth in the water.

“Are you in pain?” Scott asks then, watching him.

Stiles shrugs, taking one of the small rocks from the ground by him and tossing it in the water, “I’ve had worse. It’s just really burning, that’s all.”

“If I try to help, are you gonna yell at me?” Scott pushes from the tree and ambles over to where the prince is, sitting down beside him.

“I haven’t really **yelled** at you, have I?” Stiles asks as he looks at Scott, “At least not shrilly.”

“Not shrill, no,” Scott shakes his head and leans to touch the prince’s leg, leeching the pain, “What you said, before-before you left. That’s not… I don’t want that from you. I don’t want anything from you. My mother, she raised me to be kind. I help people because I like to help, not because I expect something in return.”

“Well, congratulations,” Stiles says as he turns back to the water, “You’re the first person I’ve met that feels that way.”

“I doubt that,” Scott argues weakly, “Good people exist.”

Stiles chuckles, resting his hands in his lap, “Okay, sure,” he responds, voice getting softer, “Derek was pretty nice,” he says then and his chest tightens just thinking of what the alpha did for him, “More than nice.”

“Hale?” Scott asks knowingly, nodding to himself, “He’s a good man.”

“He’s the one that got me out,” Stiles explains, “He gave me everything I needed to be able to handle living on my own… and I blew it.”

“You also didn’t really know what to expect, I’m guessing,” Scott muses, “Growing up with a silver spoon in your mouth.”

Stiles nods slightly, “Pretty much,” he agrees as he pulls his legs back out of the water, “Derek’s a good person. I’m… really not.”

“But you’re young, you can always change who you are,” Scott tells him, “Whether or not we’re good people, that’s up to us.”

“What would I **even be**?” Stiles asks rhetorically, “I ran away, I’m literally nothing right now. I have **nothing** to my name. I don’t know how to survive in this world.”

Scott rests his palms on the ground behind him, glancing at the boy, “Let me help you.”

Stiles looks at Scott then, narrowing his brows, “Help me do what?”

“Survive, get on your feet,” Scott explains softly.

“Something tells me that kinda stuff isn’t exactly **easy**.”

Scott smiles in amusement, “Would it really kill you to get your hands a little dirty?”

“I…” Stiles purses his lips, “I don’t actually know,” he admits, smiling sheepishly, “I-I mean I know a _few_ things, but I don’t know much about the kinds of things you probably do. I doubt you sew.”

“No, but I can teach you to do other things,” Scott tells him, “I can provide a place for you to stay, food, and money. All you have to do is help, once you’re able.”

Stiles stares at Scott then and smiles slightly, “Is it because you’re lonely?”

“Just because I live out in the middle of nowhere doesn’t mean I’m lonely,” Scott responds, “I go to the market at least once a month.”

“Once a month,” Stiles repeats and lifts his brows, “That’s not much of a social interaction,” he says, “So you **are** lonely.”

“I’m not-” Scott starts to argue, but then he stops and sighs, “Having someone to talk to is nice.”

Stiles chuckles and nods in agreement, “It is,” he says as he turns back to the water, and he can already feel his skin starting to heat and his stomach twist with sick. He’s going to be miserable tomorrow.

“I have some herbs in the hut that’ll make you feel better,” Scott offers suddenly.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Stiles says, moving to get up, “I really don’t wanna spend the next two days puking my guts up again.”

“You won’t,” Scott reassures and waits until the prince is on his feet to pick him up, setting a moderate pace back to his hut, “Will you at least tell me your real name?”

“You know I was your prince, but you don’t know my name?” Stiles asks in amusement, his cheeks heating as Scott carries him.

“It’s been years since I’ve lived in town, all I remember is prince Stilinski,” Scott offers, “But that’s just your house. What’s your first name?”

“Well, I-” Stiles blushes, “To be honest, I don’t entirely go by my first name. I go by Stiles, and yes, I know it’s pretty much my last name in a smaller form, but I was about seven when I decided on it and it stuck.”

“Stiles,” Scott repeats, glancing at him, “Is your first name really that bad?” he asks jokingly.

Stiles chuckles nervously and nods, “Actually, yeah. It’s Polish, so what do you think?”

“I guess,” Scott responds, “Stiles isn’t so bad.”

Stiles smiles and leans against Scott’s chest, “Hey, uhm… I’m sorry about being so skeptical and judging. I’ve… kinda had a bad month.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Scott tells him and steps over a log, able to see the light from his hut in the distance.

“Maybe not, but I want to,” Stiles says as he stares up at Scott, “Also, what-what have you heard? I mean, you knew I ran away, but have you heard anything about my dad? About Derek?”

“Your dad has men out looking for you, nearly every day,” Scott tells him, “There are rumors, but it’s difficult to tell what’s what.”

Stiles sighs, “I told him **not** to,” he says, shaking his head, “He knew it wasn’t what I wanted. He should’ve seen it coming.”

“There’s a bounty,” Scott informs him, “A large one.”

“How big?” Stiles asks curiously.

“Fifty thousand.”

Stiles’s mouth drops open and he goes silent for a moment, blinking in surprise, “Yeesh, I should turn **myself** in…”

“I don’t really think the reward applies that way,” Scott chuckles at the thought, “People have been saying that there are bounty hunters, coming from across the world to find you.”

“That’s a little terrifying,” Stiles says, narrowing his brows, “And you’re sure **you** don’t wanna turn me in?”

“I don’t wanna turn you in,” Scott confirms, “You’re safe with me. I’ll even show you where you can hide if anyone ever comes looking for you.”

Stiles nods slightly, still not really able to wrap his head around how incredibly lucky he was to find someone like Scott, of all of the people he could’ve stolen fruit from, “Thanks. I’ll… one day I’ll find a way to repay you.”

“That’s unnecessary,” Scott tells him and lets out a breath once they reach his hut, carrying Stiles inside before sitting him on the straw bed, “I told you, I’m not kind to people because I expect something in return. Just… get better, focus on that.”

“I plan to,” Stiles says and shifts slightly on the bed, but doesn’t complain. He’s had a bad back for the last month, and this bed is worse than the last one he had, but he knows Scott is doing what he can, so he doesn’t say anything about it, “But just… really, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Scott grins sincerely and then moves to begin grinding some herbs for Stiles.

Stiles watches him curiously, “So, uhm… you were bitten, yeah? Who, uh, who was your alpha?”

Scott’s smile falters and he turns his head away from Stiles as he grinds, “The same person I was betrothed to.”

“And…” Stiles blinks as he looks at Scott, “Who was that?”

“It was… uh…” Scott swallows as he thinks about it, “It was Derek’s uncle.”

Stiles frowns and it only takes him a moment to feel completely disgusted, “ **Peter** Hale?” he asks, making a face, “Ugh, that’s literally the worst person to be promised to.”

Scott doesn’t look back at Stiles as he nods in agreement, “Yeah,” his voice cracks.

“And he bit you,” Stiles says then, “How far did it all go? I mean, I know you said your mother gave up her freedom for yours, but how far did it go before that?”

“I’d rather not-” Scott looks at Stiles then and shakes his head pleadingly, “Can we not talk about it? He’s not a good man, lets just leave it at that.”

“Righty, prying, sorry,” Stiles responds and nods, “It’s okay, sorry I asked. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, it’s just-it was a really bad time for me.”

Stiles nods in understanding, “Yeah I’ve heard some of his tall tales,” he says and frowns, “Sorry you had to go through that.”

“It happens,” Scott shrugs dismissively and gets up to heat some water so that he can make tea with the herbs.

“So, how old were you when you were bit?” Stiles asks then, trying to slightly lead the conversation in another direction, “You seem like you have it under control.”

“I was sixteen,” Scott offers the information as the water begins to boil.

“And now you’re…” Stiles trails, “Are you an omega?”

“I’m twenty-four, and yeah,” Scott nods, taking the pot of water off and pouring it through the colander of herbs.

Stiles narrows his brows, turning onto his side, “Sounds really lonely,” he says, and he feels like he’s done a full circle since their conversation before, “But you seem to be doing good for yourself, for an omega.”

“I have a green thumb, so that helps,” Scott jokes and takes the cup over to Stiles, offering it.

“Thanks,” Stiles says as he takes it, sipping at it lightly and trying not to burn his mouth, “So you go to the market once a month to like… sell food and stuff? Buy things you need?”

“And trade sometimes, but yeah,” Scott nods, sitting down on the bed next to Stiles.

Stiles sits upright, folding his legs but being mindful of his foot, “When was your last trip there?”

“About three weeks ago,” Scott explains, lifting his brows, “You could go with me next week.”

“I could,” Stiles says and chuckles, “And possibly risk getting found out and taken back to my dad, where I’ll be forced to marry Derek and escaping and running away to the middle of the woods to live with you would’ve been for nothing.”

“Point taken, you should stay here,” Scott chuckles, pointing to the floor beneath the table, “There’s a compartment under the floor, you can hide there if anyone comes for you.”

Stiles glances down, “Should I be concerned as to _why_ there’s a hidey hole in your hut?”

“They’re more common than you think,” Scott shrugs, “But ours was for when my dad would come home drunk, we’d hide down there.”

“Sounds like a great guy,” Stiles says sarcastically, finally able to chug his drink now that it’s cooled down a little, “Good thing you two had a place to hide, though. No one wants to deal with a drunk.”

“An abusive drunk, no less.”

Stiles tilts his head at Scott as he puts his glass down in his lap, “Hey,” he says, reaching out for Scott’s hand and shaking his head, “Forget about the guy. He’s not worth your time. I mean, look at you,” he motions generally to Scott, “You’re obviously a lot better off without him.”

Scott’s gaze shifts down to the soft, uncalloused hand on his own and he smiles weakly, then nods at Stiles, “Yeah,” he agrees, “You should try to get some rest, let the herbs work.”

“I can try,” Stiles says and smiles back at Scott, then, without even getting undressed, he lays down on the stiff attempt at a bed and rolls onto his side, wincing as he does it.

Scott watches Stiles, reaching out once the boy is settled to touch his foot, taking some of his pain before pulling the cover up over him.

“Where are you gonna sleep?” Stiles asks then, feeling sleepy all of a sudden. It’s not surprising, he’s been through a lot today.

“I was thinking about setting up outside, so that I can keep an eye out,” Scott admits, getting up from the bed to grab a couple of burlap sacks to use for a pillow.

"You're gonna sleep outside?" Stiles frowns, feeling a little guilty, "You don't plan on doing that every night from now on, do you?"

“No, just until I can put together another bed for myself,” Scott explains, “I’ll have to get supplies from the market when I go.”

"I don't wanna kick you out of your bed, Scott."

“You’re not kicking me out, or putting me out in any way,” Scott argues softly, “Just get some sleep, Stiles.”

Stiles shakes his head stubbornly, “I’m not comfortable with you sleeping outside. There’s enough room in this bed for both of us.” He was opposed to sharing a glass of water because even the thought of that makes him sick. And he’s not accustomed to sharing a bed, but honestly he’s kind of been freezing for the past month, some heat would be nice for a change.

Scott stares at Stiles and inwardly worries about what it might construe if he accepts, he can’t stop thinking about what Stiles said earlier and he doesn’t want the boy to accuse him of that again, “Fine,” he says warily, stalking over to the fireplace to put the sacks back. After that he adds a few more logs to the fire and stokes it, making sure it’ll keep them warm before moving to the bed, “Scoot over.”

Stiles does so at once, pulling the covers back for Scott as he presses his back to the wall and shivers slightly, “I’ve never really slept in a bed with someone else,” he admits, chuckling.

“Neither have I,” Scott tells him and rolls so that his back is towards Stiles, reaching back for some of the cover, “Aside from my mother.”

Stiles nods, helping Scott to cover himself up, “Me too, I mean… my mom and dad shared a bed, but I’d always sneak in on her side. Of course, that was when I was like eight.”

“You’ve probably gotten used to sleeping alone in your big comfortable bed since then, yeah?” Scott asks teasingly, smiling to himself as he closes his eyes.

“A little bit,” Stiles admits and sighs as he thinks about it, “I miss it, but it’s not worth the sacrifice. I’d rather sleep on the floor than have to marry Derek.”

“Who do you get the rebelliousness streak from, your mother?” Scott asks curiously.

“That’s what my dad says,” Stiles responds, voice softening, “She was from a different clan, and they were really stubborn people. She fought my dad tooth and nail throughout their entire marriage.”

“You’re speaking about her in the past tense,” Scott observes tiredly, “Did she pass?”

Stiles frowns slightly, his chest tightening, “Yeah, she…” he sighs, because most of it isn’t really known to the broad public, “She kind of… started to lose her sanity, before she died.”

Scott opens his eyes and rolls just a bit so that he can look at Stiles, “I’m really sorry for your loss, I’m sure she was wonderful.”

“She was,” Stiles responds, looking at Scott as well, “I took after her a lot, I even look like her. I guess that’s why, compared to my dad, I look like a mushroom or something. Another thing, don’t say ‘sorry for your loss’ to someone that lost their mother nearly eight years ago,” he swats Scott’s chest then, smiling, “It such a tired expression, and I go a little more deaf when people say it.”

Scott stares at Stiles seriously, eyes a bit wide, “Then how do I convey my sympathy?”

“‘ _I’m sorry your mother died eight years ago?_ ’,” Stiles shrugs, “I dunno, any other way is fine.”

Scott nods subtly, “I’m sorry your mother died eight years ago,” he says then, feeling brash just for saying it. It feels rude and informal.

“That’s better,” Stiles responds and then moves his hand from Scott’s chest, his cheeks heating a little, “Trust me, after hearing the same thing for so long… it starts to feel… really empty.”

“I can only imagine,” Scott tries to sympathize, but both of his parents are still alive as far as he knows. He rolls back then, curling his knees up a bit and shifting his head on the burlap sack full of straw.

Stiles stares at Scott then, mindlessly gravitating towards the heat and closing his eyes then, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Stiles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that there are also fics in the [Vault](http://cammerel.tumblr.com/Fic%20Sorter) that I may never post. And I’m even werking on an original werewolf story, so if that sounds enticing to you at all, you can always ask me about it on Tumblr or via e-mail.   
>  -Cammerel


	5. The Soap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles - 15  
> Scott - 24  
> Derek - 40

When Stiles wakes up the next morning, he’s literally wrapped around Scott in just about every way possible. He’s also so ridiculously hot that his skin is covered in sweat and he has to peel his cheek from Scott’s back to look around. Almost at once, he starts to try and move away from Scott, trying to pull his arm out from under the sleeping werewolf without waking him up.

Scott lets out a breath and shifts in his sleep, rolling around and draping himself over a particularly lumpy part of his bed and nuzzles the abnormally soft burlap pillow.

“Oof,” Stiles lets out a weak huff when Scott covers him and he turns his head slightly to breathe as Scott starts moving his face against his hair, “I’m not a pillow,” he breathes out, sweat pooling at his collarbone.

Scott slowly blinks his eyes open when his bed talks and he startles when he realizes he’s practically laying on top of Stiles, pulling back so quickly that he falls to the floor, “I’m so sorry,” he grunts, clambering up, “I didn’t-I forgot I was sleeping with someone. I’m sorry.”

Stiles starts laughing the moment he sees Scott’s eyes widen before he topples off the bed, and he means to ask Scott if he’s okay, but he can barely get a word out without laughing again. He moves onto his stomach to sit himself up, the cover pooling around him as he finally looks at Scott and collects himself, “No, it’s okay. I… I kind of did too before you tackled me.”

Scott observes the boy, the way he’s sitting with the covers, the flush on his cheeks, “Oh!” he realizes, then turns his back to the prince, “I’ll open a window for you,” he says, opening the window on the far side to let a breeze in, “And I-I’ll go-I’ll go water… everything.”

Stiles chuckles again, pulling his knees up a little, “Hey, a question, before you go.”

Scott stops at the door, but makes it a point to keep his back to Stiles, “Yeah?”

“You wouldn’t happen to have any animals on your farm, would you?”

“A few, why?” Scott asks and can’t help but turn his head to look at the boy.

Stiles shrugs, “I know that the two normally work separately. Do you have any sheep?”

“Two,” Scott nods.

Stiles purses his lips as he nods, “How much does wool cost?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Uhm,” Stiles waves his hand dismissively, “Because I… I might be able to make you a few nice things, if I had some.”

“It’s almost time to sheer mine,” Scott muses, “I normally trade the wool, but if you want it, you can have it.”

Stiles nods then, “Okay, I think two might be more than enough, but we’ll see.”

“Alright,” Scott says and motions to the prince, “How do you feel?”

“Just really hot,” Stiles says, wiping the sweat from his forehead, “Do you, by any chance, happen to have a spinning wheel?”

Scott’s brows furrow and he shakes his head, “No, I’m sorry,” he says, feeling inexplicably guilty. He gestures to the door then, “I’ll be back in shortly.”

Stiles nods, “Yeah, okay,” he says as he gets up as well, lifting his shirt to wipe his cheeks and forehead.

Scott takes his time outside to tend to his crops, watering them and weeding them, plucking anything that looks nice and ripe. By the time he’s done, he has a basket full, carrying it against his hip as he enters the hut, “Are you any cooler?”

“A little,” Stiles admits as he looks up from the table, “What’s a normal day like for you?”

“Um,” Scott sets the basket on the table and shrugs, “I get up, tend to my crops, plant more depending on whether or not it’s the season to do so. I check on the animals, make sure they’re fed. Sometimes I find busy work around the hut, in the evenings I bathe in the creek. Probably boring, compared to what you’re used to.”

“I think I could use a little boring in my life,” Stiles says and chuckles, “I don’t think I’ve had a quiet day of my life.”

“It’s pretty quiet out here,” Scott smiles, “How’s your ankle?”

Stiles glances down at it, “Uh, swollen like a melon,” he observes as he turns his foot to the side, “I have unusually weak ankles as it is, so this isn’t new for me.”

“It should be better in another day or two,” Scott tells him, offering some strawberries, “Hungry?”

Stiles stares at the red berries for a moment before reaching out for them and smiling, “Thanks,” he says and takes a bite of one of them, humming lowly, “Oh… I love strawberries.”

“They’re good,” Scott agrees and watches Stiles, a little red dribble of juice on his chin, “You-here,” he says, swiping it away with his thumb, “Do you want some water?”

The sudden brush of Scott’s hand startles Stiles for a moment and he looks up at him, “Uh, yes, please. Thank you.”

Scott nods subtly and smiles, turning to pour some water from the pitcher, handing it to the boy.

Stiles takes a sip of the water first before setting it down and looking up at Scott, “Can I borrow a knife?”

“Sure,” Scott doesn’t think anything of it, grabbing the one he keeps on his hip all the time and handing it to Stiles.

Stiles takes it by the hilt, being mindful of his hands as he cuts up the fruit into fourths before squeezing them out in the water. Then putting the rest of the fruit in the glass and stirring it.

Scott tilts his head in confusion as he watches Stiles, “What are you doing?”

“I’m flavoring it,” Stiles says and shrugs, sipping the water and smiling slowly.

If possible, Scott’s brows narrow even more, because he’s never heard of someone squeezing fruit into water to ‘flavor’ it, “But why?” he asks, scratching the side of his head.

Stiles blinks and looks up at Scott, chuckling, “Uhm, just… think for a second about…” he holds his hands out, “Strawberry flavored water.”

Scott thinks about it and continues to stare at Stiles pensively, then he sits down across from him, pouring some water into a cup of his own before sliding it across to the prince, “Do it to mine.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, reaching out for a couple more strawberries. He cuts them up the same as he’d done his own, squeezing the juices into the cup before putting the fruit in it and mixing it around, “Go ahead,” he says as he pushes it over to Scott once more.

Scott takes the cup and peers down into it warily, gaze shifting to Stiles, “And it makes the water taste like strawberries?”

“Just **try** it,” Stiles responds, brows lifting impatiently.

Scott huffs and tilts the cup up, sipping warily to taste it and he’s pleasantly surprised. Humming, he downs the rest of the drink and chews the pieces of strawberry, “Do they do this in the castle?”

“Mostly just me,” Stiles admits then and grins at Scott, “I convinced a few others to do it, but dad refused. You can do it with just about any fruit. Lemon is a little sour, but berries are pretty nice.”

“This is amazing,” Scott tells Stiles with restrained enthusiasm, his gaze shifting to his colander, “We could refine it, sell it. People in the market would go crazy for it.”

Stiles laughs, “Probably,” he says at Scott’s reaction to it, “I normally just… keep things like that to myself. Most of my ideas upset my father, so I kind of just keep them quiet, you know?”

“Understandable,” Scott nods, “We don’t have to sell it.”

“Oh, no, no, I’m not against it,” Stiles responds then, smiling at Scott, “It’s just that it would have to be only you. I think it’s safer that people don’t know I’m staying with you, or that more than one person lives here. But I could help with making it.”

“Even if it’s just me selling it, it could raise some suspicion,” Scott responds and shakes his head, “It’s probably best if we don’t, I don’t wanna lead people here to find you.”

Stiles nods then, taking another sip of his water, “Well, either way - that won’t stop us from enjoying it for ourselves.”

“True,” Scott smiles and gets back up from the table, “Do you wanna go with me to feed the animals?”

Stiles nods and stands up, “Yeah, although I might take about a century getting there,” he says as he finishes his drink, eating the leftover fruit.

“I can carry you,” Scott snorts in amusement, it’s not like he was planning on making the prince walk with a pained ankle. He turns and crouches down, “Get on.”

“Oh,” Stiles says in surprise and moves over to Scott, hopping onto his back and wrapping his legs around Scott’s waist, “That… that works.”

Scott curls his fingers against the sides of Stiles’s legs to keep him up, moving out of the hut, stopping long enough to grab the bag of feed before ambling down over the hill, “When I put you down, don’t crouch or lower yourself anywhere near the goat.”

Stiles lifts a brow, “Do I… wanna know why?”

“He likes to climb, and he doesn’t care what he has to use to elevate himself,” Scott explains, “You crouch, he’ll jump on your back.”

“Oh, okay,” Stiles says and grins, “So you being a werewolf doesn’t bother the animals?”

“When I get a new animal, it does at first, but they always come around,” Scott tells him and lowers the prince once they reach the makeshift fence. He opens the bag of feed and takes Stiles’s hand, putting some in it and motioning to the donkey, “Go ahead.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Stiles mumbles nervously, “He might bite me or something.”

“ **She’s** gentle, I promise,” Scott chuckles at how tentative Stiles is, so he takes his hand and guides it through the fence, “It tickles, watch.”

“No,” Stiles squeezes his eyes shut, but doesn’t pull his hand back, bracing for it and then chuckling when he feels the wet, furry mouth on his hand, “She’s gonna bite it off, Scott.”

“She’s not gonna bite it off,” Scott grins widely as he watches Stiles, reaching to pet between the donkey’s ears, “Get some more.”

Stiles shakes his head, “No,” he says, barely opening one eye, “I don’t wanna do it again. She’s gonna bite my hand off.”

Scott gets more feed for Stiles since he’s being so stubborn about it, putting it in his hand, “The best part about feeding the animals is interacting with them, and you’re worrying for nothing. They’re tame.”

“You watch, right when I let my guard down, she’ll eat my arm,” Stiles responds and tentatively offers the food to her, “I’m just gonna be sitting here, blood spurting from my shoulder, laughing and screaming while telling you I was right.”

“You’re really dramatic, you know that?” Scott presses his lips together to keep from chuckling, watching as the donkey eats from Stiles’s hand.

“I’m not that dramatic, I’m realistic,” Stiles says in his defense and pulls his hand back, making a face, “How much more?”

“I have to put some inside the fence, I just wanted you to try,” Scott explains and takes the bag of feed, pouring some on the ground before moving around to the sheep.

Stiles follows after him carefully, chuckling when he sees the sheep, “Oh, they’re so fluffy.” He leans on the fence to look at them better, “I’ve never seen them so…” he motions outwards, “I’ve just seen them after they’ve been sheared.”

“They get big,” Scott nods and gives them some feed, smiling when the chickens get impatient and flock over to eat too.

“Yeah,” Stiles says and reaches out to pet the sheep, ruffling his fingers through the thick wool, “I can’t believe you take care of all of this alone.”

“Why is it so hard to believe?” Scott asks and puts the bag of feed down, hopping the fence effortlessly to amble over to the cow that’s lying down.

Stiles motions around them, “Because it’s a lot to take care of, and a lot to do on your own.”

“It’s not that hard,” Scott shrugs modestly and crouches down, patting the cow’s swollen stomach, “How you doing, girl?” he mumbles quietly, making sure she’s okay.

Stiles lifts his brows, “That’s… a really pregnant cow,” he states obviously, watching Scott.

“She should be going into labor any time now,” Scott says, lifting the cow’s tail to see if she’s bleeding any, “I didn’t know she was pregnant when I bought her.”

“Have you ever birthed a calf before?” Stiles asks then, lifting his brows.

Scott looks back at Stiles with wide eyes, “No, but how difficult can it be, right?”

“Depends on her, I guess,” Stiles says and looks at the cow, “As long as it’s not… you know, _complicated_ , she should do it herself.”

“That’s the good thing about animals,” Scott brushes the cow’s stomach once more before getting up, “They’re pretty self sufficient.” He walks back over and hops the fence, picking up the sack of food, “She just hasn’t been very active lately.”

“Well if you come outside tomorrow and you have an extra cow, you’ll know why,” Stiles says and pats his arm.

“Yep,” Scott smiles and turns to crouch, “Get on.”

Stiles moves forward and climbs onto Scott’s back, wrapping his legs around his waist once more, “Not a bad group of animals so far.”

“That’s it, I don’t have many,” Scott shrugs and carries Stiles back to the hut, “I don’t need many, really.”

“Oh,” Stiles says in surprise and then nods, “Yeah, that makes sense. Well, you’ve got pretty much all the grounds covered.”

“Couldn’t hurt to get a few more chickens now that you’re here,” Scott muses, setting Stiles back down inside of the hut.

“Probably,” Stiles agrees, “I like eggs, so…” he trails and takes a seat at the table, “The more the merrier. Hey, uhm, I don’t really need a spinning wheel or anything. But when you go into town, could you look into getting a spindle, at least?”

“I can get a spinning wheel, it doesn’t matter,” Scott tells him and puts the feed by the front door.

Stiles shakes his head, “No, really, I don’t need the whole thing to do it.”

“Okay, if you say so,” Scott concedes easily enough, “Spindle it is.”

“I’ve worked with less,” Stiles admits then, “I was taught using just my hands first.”

“Was that something your mother taught you?”

Stiles laughs and shakes his head, “No, no, my mom didn’t really know much about sewing. She was more of a markswoman. I have a private tutor that taught me how to sew and spin yarn and stuff.”

“I can believe that,” Scott nods, the boy is a prince after all, he probably had a tutor for just about everything.

“Yeah, so I know a lot of… miscellaneous things like that,” Stiles says, waving his hand, “I tried fighting, and I’m not that bad at it, I just preferred **not** doing it.”

“I don’t like fighting either,” Scott relates and sits down for a moment, they need to bathe and wash their clothes while it's warm out, but he likes learning new things about the boy.

Stiles nods in agreement, “Yeah, I just went through the basic training. After that I got to pick what I wanted, so I dropped all the sword-fighting and archery, things like that.”

“My mother always used to tell me that people who enjoy fighting, only enjoy it because they’re not good at anything else,” Scott tells Stiles, resting his elbows on the table, “Or that they enjoy it because they like hurting people. I think both apply.”

Stiles lifts his brows, “That’s an interesting way to look at it. And yeah, I have neither of those qualities. I’d rather just be left alone to do my own thing, you know?”

“I’ve lived alone since I was sixteen,” Scott smiles slowly, “Yeah, I think I get it.”

Stiles chuckles and pats his legs, “So, uhm, now what?”

“We need to bathe and wash our clothes,” Scott supplies, “It’s nice out, it shouldn’t take them long to dry.”

“I…” Stiles blushes, “I don’t really know how to wash clothes,” he says instead of asking Scott about them being naked around one another, he can’t even think about it without feeling faint.

“I can help you,” Scott shrugs casually and stands back up to grab his lye soap before they go, “It’d be easier if I had a washboard, but it’s not hard.”

Stiles nods then and stands as well, “O-okay,” he says, tentatively stepping over to Scott.

“Do you always stress so much over baths?” Scott asks after he helps Stiles onto his back, leaving the hut.

“Stress?” Stiles asks and shakes his head, “N-no. Not really. Not ever, really.”

“Then why is your heart racing?” Scott asks as he heads towards his spot by the creek.

“No reason that’s entirely important,” Stiles says, waving his hand, “So, uhm, bathing in the water won’t make us sick, will it?”

“Not unless we ingest it,” Scott shakes his head and stops when they reach the water, settling Stiles down, “I’ve got a line strung up,” he points to the line between two trees nearby, “It’ll help our clothes dry faster.”

Stiles steadies himself, looking at the line warily, “Okay, you’re…” he glances at Scott, “Probably gonna have to lead me through this like you would teach a five year old. I have no clue.”

Scott chuckles and drops the soap in the grass, then takes his shirt off, “You basically just take the soap and rub it against the clothes, then rub the clothes together to get the dirt and stuff out,” he explains, shamelessly pulling the strings on his pants to drop them.

Stiles’s eyes nearly drop out of his skull when Scott starts taking off his clothes. He’s never really been aroused by a specific person before, not so much that it made him immediately feel lightheaded, and he almost reaches out for Scott to help keep himself steady. The only thing that stops him is knowing that it might just make it worse. Stiles looks away at once, unable to stop himself from thinking that he knows something _else_ he’d rather rub together.

Scott watches Stiles’s odd behavior and looks down at his body when the boy looks away, wondering if he has a growth somewhere on his body or something. There’s nothing, so he figures maybe the prince just isn’t used to nudity, so he grabs the soap and his shirt before getting in the water to cover himself.

“I’ll show you as soon as you get in,” Scott offers.

“R-right,” Stiles looks down at himself and sighs, reaching up to pull off the large shirt. The last thing he wants is to be exposed in front of Scott, and at the same time, it’s kind of… _not that bad of a thought_. He pushes away his shyness, untying the the drawstring of his pants and stepping out of them, clearing his throat as he moves to get into the water as well.

Scott positions his own shirt over his shoulder, reaching out to take Stiles’s once he’s close enough, “Okay, so,” he dunks the shirt in the water to get it wet, then starts lathering it up, “Like this,” he shows him, rubbing the fabric together.

Stiles lifts a brow, watching him, feeling the chill bumps rise up on his skin from the cold water and he glances past the shirt, looking Scott over for a moment as he nods, “Okay… I… how do you… know it’s clean or… not?”

“Just… scrub,” Scott shrugs and narrows his brows as he observes Stiles’s gaze, “Scrub and rinse, scrub and rinse. That’s the best we can do.”

“Right,” Stiles swallows and has to pull his eyes from Scott’s body to look back up at him properly, “Scrub and… and rinse. I think I can do that.”

“You sure?” Scott asks, his voice surprisingly soft, and yet a little teasing, “You seem a little distracted.”

Stiles can feel the blush spread down his back and chest, “Sorry,” he mutters and chuckles, “You just… have a really amazing body,” he says shamelessly.

Scott’s brows raise a little and he looks down at himself, shrugging modestly, “Werewolf, I guess.”

“Uhh,” Stiles shakes his head, “N-no, it’s definitely not just that,” he says.

“Right,” Scott says slowly and then he actually blushes, motioning to Stiles as he wets his own shirt, “So you like boys?”

“I wouldn’t say I like _boys_ ,” Stiles chuckles, looking Scott over again and smiling to himself.

“I can feel your eyes on me,” Scott tells him, glancing in Stiles’s direction, “Men, then?”

Stiles shrugs, “I guess so,” he says and starts to work on his shirt then, looking down, “I don’t really pay attention to gender that much,” he admits. And then he narrows his brows, “I… I haven’t really even been interested in anyone, not really.”

“You’re still young yet, give it time,” Scott insists and rinses his shirt out, “At least now, now that you’re not being forced to marry someone you don’t want to marry, you at least have a choice.”

“Sure,” Stiles says, shrugging, “Having a choice is nice, yeah.” He looks down, rinsing off the shirt as he starts thinking about it. Considering it was the reason he left in the first place, he probably should’ve thought of it more. He’s never even given it much thought at all, not just being attracted to someone, but there’s obviously more to it than that.

Scott walks back over to the bank, up out of the water to put his shirt on the grass and to grab his pants before wading back in. Having a choice **is** nice, and sometimes, it’s all a person has; the ability to make choices for themselves. He’s just lucky that thanks to his mother, he has a choice, too.

Stiles keeps his eyes on the shirt, dunking it back in the water, “I guess I just never thought of what that entails.”

“Having a choice, especially that kind of choice, regarding who you’re with, it’s liberating,” Scott says and starts washing his pants, “You get to choose with your heart, or your gut, or your head. It doesn’t even matter if you make a wrong choice, you still get to pick and choose. That’s the beauty of it.”

Stiles watches Scott, barely able to concentrate on his own clothes - and he’s still on his shirt, “How would you even know if it was wrong?” he asks then, because he still probably wouldn’t know where to start. Right now, all he can think about is Scott’s really nice muscles, and he knows that’s only aesthetics; though if he were being honest, he’s felt something stirring even before he saw Scott naked.

“People can be deceiving, Stiles,” Scott explains, glancing at the boy, “All you can do is follow your instincts. Trust yourself, and your heart, and you should be good.”

“You make that sound so easy,” Stiles responds and finishes washing off the shirt, or he assumes it’s clean. He moves up to the bank of the creek to get his pants, taking them out into the water next, “I have about as much instinct as a leaf.”

“Instinct can be subjective, it can always change,” Scott shrugs and tosses his pants to the bank, “Just don’t be quick to jump into something if you’re not sure.” He holds the soap out to Stiles, “Go ahead,” he says, then slinks down into the water to wet his hair.

Stiles sighs and lathers the soap, pressing it against the fabric to rub it in before it slips out of his hand and he moves to grab it, dropping his pants and launching himself after it, but stopping when it falls into the water, “Oh… no.”

“It’s okay,” Scott chuckles and shakes his head, flinging water, “We just won’t be as clean as we could be,” he jokes, “I can get some more in a few days.”

“I didn’t mean to, it’s so slippery,” Stiles says, reaching out to snag his pants, “At least I got some on here while I could…”

Scott cups water in his hand and tries to scrub the dirt from his skin without the soap, “Silver lining,” he agrees, offering a small smile as he washes off.

Stiles nods as he looks at Scott again and feels his mouth dry, even though he’s standing in waist-deep water, “Yeah,” he mumbles as he rubs the fabric together like Scott had, “It… could probably be worse.”

“It could always be worse,” Scott nods and scrubs his face, his beard, before moving to get out of the water.

Unlike before, Stiles allows himself to look this time, but only for a moment before he focuses his attention back on himself. He’s just humoring himself at this point, he’s a kid, there’s no way Scott would be even remotely interested in him, but it’s… not a bad thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that there are also fics in the [Vault](http://cammerel.tumblr.com/Fic%20Sorter) that I may never post. And I’m even werking on an original werewolf story, so if that sounds enticing to you at all, you can always ask me about it on Tumblr or via e-mail.   
>  -Cammerel


	6. The Fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stiles - 15  
> Scott - 24  
> Derek - 40

Stiles presses his finger into the ground before dropping one of the seeds down and covering it up, “You know, this isn’t so bad,” he says as he rubs his hands off and reaches a hand out to Scott, “More, please.”

Scott smiles to himself at how much Stiles is taking to planting things, offering more seeds to the prince, “Careful not to pat the soil down too much.”

“I’ve only been doing it once,” Stiles explains his method, “Poke, seed, cover, pat, move on,” he says and does it as he talks, “Pretty simple if you ask me.”

“Yeah, this is the easy part,” Scott agrees and moves along with Stiles, giving more seeds when they’re needed, “It’s everything else that requires a little more effort.”

“What, like watering them and stuff?” Stiles asks, tilting his head as he shifts over to the next line once they reach the end.

“Watering, weeding, keeping animals out.”

Stiles glances up, “Why don’t you mark your territory?” he asks curiously.

“What do you mean?” Scott asks back in confusion.

“You’re a werewolf,” Stiles says and smiles slightly, “Why don’t you mark your territory? It would save you a lot of grief with animals. They wouldn’t come near the farm at all.”

“But how do I do that?” Scott questions innocently, “I’ve already got fences up.”

Stiles blinks at Scott, “You’ve been a werewolf since you were sixteen, and you don’t know about marking?”

“I’ve… never had anyone teach me anything about what I am,” Scott admits, “I was bitten and forced to go through it all by myself.”

Stiles frowns and looks back down to continue planting, “I know all about werewolves,” he admits, “I studied them for **years**. So… I’m talking about scent marking - using urine to mark your territory. It’s not the same as dogs, not exactly. It’s far more powerful than that.”

“You want me to urinate around all the crops?” Scott asks skeptically, narrowing his eyes.

“All you have to do is designate a spot,” Stiles looks around and motions to the tree on the corner by the hut, “Right there is good enough. It’ll clear anything for about half a mile or so.”

Scott’s gaze shifts to the tree and becomes pensive, “I’ll think about it,” he tells Stiles, still wary.

Stiles chuckles, “There’s no shame in urinating on a tree,” he says and looks at Scott, the expression on his face, “As a matter of fact, just **doing** it will make you like… really happy,” he responds, smirking. He looks back down to poke his finger into the ground, “It’s pretty pleasing, from what I know. Kind of like how you walk into your hut and it all smells like you, like home.”

“I said I’d think about it,” Scott says and looks at Stiles, “Don’t worry about it, just focus on this,” he insists.

“Uh huh,” Stiles responds, finishing off his handful and reaching out for more seeds, “It’s too bad you didn’t have someone to help you out - your alpha should’ve done that, but I’m not surprised Peter didn’t. He was a horrible person.”

“You can say that again,” Scott doesn’t disagree, brows pinching together. He hates how he feels every time he hears the other man’s name, he hates being reminded of a time in his life that was so bad that he wanted to die at one point.

“Sorry,” Stiles says then, reaching out to touch his hand for a moment and then taking the bag from him, “At least he’s dead, right? Good riddance.”

Scott nods silently, he just wishes that his memories of the other werewolf would’ve died right along with him, but he knows things don’t work that way. Peter scarred him for life, the things that happened aren’t things he’ll ever forget.

Stiles looks at Scott then, able to tell that he’s still upset so he motions to Scott’s nose, “But you do know about being able to tell different emotions and stuff from scent, right?”

Scott is pulled from his thoughts and he tilts his head at Stiles, “What?”

“Being able to tell when someone is happy and sad,” Stiles explains, “But not even just that. Being able to tell like… if someone is scared, or nervous, or uncomfortable.”

“I normally just try to judge by their heart beats,” Scott admits, “I didn’t know I could do that.”

“Okay,” Stiles grins widely, “Yeah, you can tell emotions by scent. Most of them you might be able to just… _know_. Some are strong enough to make you feel that way yourself.”

“How do I do it?” Scott asks Stiles, able to see the irony that he’s asking a human.

“Well,” Stiles purses his lips, “You’re good at smelling things out, right? Like scents from long distances?”

“I guess,” Scott shrugs.

Stiles stares at Scott and chuckles, “What do you mean ‘I guess’?”

“I dunno, I’ve never really tried smelling things from long distances,” Scott tries to explain himself, “I can hear things, but it’s not like I go out of my way to smell what another farmer is planting twenty miles away.”

“Well, no, but still,” Stiles smacks Scott’s arm, how are you only allowing yourself to work at like… fifty percent? You could be so much faster. Scent is a very crucial thing for werewolves. They always say that losing that sense is crippling for a werewolf.”

Scott frowns slowly because he feels like he’s been missing out on something, “Then teach me,” he says softly, staring at Stiles questioningly.

Stiles flounders, “Uhm, I can-I can try,” he shrugs, “I’m a kid, and a **human** kid at that but uhm…” he narrows his brows, trying to think about it, “Try smelling things from your house, from here. Focus on scents you know are in there, like the straw bed, the metal of the tools, things like that.”

“How is that supposed to help me smell emotions?” Scott asks skeptically, but he’s already sniffing and scenting the air to target the things Stiles told him to.

Stiles reaches up and pats his cheek, “No, not like that,” he says in disapproval, then motions to the tip of his nose, “Not from here, you have to go further back. Sniffing isn’t the same as scenting, it’s lower.”

Scott lets out a frustrated huff of breath and sits down fully on the dirt, “How do I breathe from further back?” he asks, still trying to pinpoint certain scents.

“Like you’re pulling the scents in from your chest,” Stiles tries to explain, “You’ll know when you do, because you’ll taste it, too. Werewolves taste smells when they scent.”

Scott closes his eyes to focus and instead of sniffing, he just breathes, taking in slow, deep lungfuls. He’s focused on the bed, but he’s not really smelling the straw so much as he is his and Stiles’s scents, the two surprisingly intermingled, “How do I know if what I’m smelling is even what I’m supposed to be smelling?”

“You’re not really _supposed to be smelling_ anything,” Stiles says as he continues to plant, “It’s all instinct, you smell what you can, what you want to smell, you can also follow them. Like say… you smell a knife in your house, and it’s in a drawer - you can smell from that, to the wood, to a bowl, the fruits in the bowl, the water on the fruits. See what I mean?”

“Not really,” Scott shakes his head and opens his eyes, it’s probably pointless to try and teach him now.

Stiles shrugs, “Everything takes practice. Just try starting with things that are familiar. Maybe we should start closer than the house,” he looks around the farm, “Try smelling out each individual fruit and vegetable that’s here.”

Scott shifts and follows Stiles as he moves, frustrated with himself more than anything because he can’t seem to get the hang of it, “I’ll try,” he mumbles, focusing on the strawberries. It takes him a moment, but then he hums, because he swears he can practically taste one.

Stiles glances up at him, “I take it that worked?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You sounded pretty sure,” Stiles points out, but he doesn’t push, finishing off the last of the seeds and standing up with the bag in hand, closing it securely as he moves over to Scott.

“I thought I could taste it,” Scott explains and stands up as well, “But I don’t know if that was me actually smelling it, or if my mind was projecting the taste.”

Stiles snorts and hands him the bag, “You never know, but keep practicing,” he says as he looks up at Scott, “The more you practice, the better you’ll get. Once you have down **normal** scents, things you’re familiar with, I’ll help you to figure out emotions and things like that.”

“Okay,” Scott nods and ties the seed bag shut, smiling, “Thanks.”

“For what?” Stiles asks in confusion, holding his hands out.

“For…” Scott narrows his brows, feeling awkward, “For teaching me?” he guesses, he felt like it was obvious.

Stiles shrugs, “I’m not really teaching you anything, I’m giving you advice,” he says as he pats Scott’s shoulder, “I’ve never done this before, so this is my best guess.”

“Still, you’re helping me,” Scott shrugs.

“You helped me first,” Stiles responds, “It’s the least I can do.”

Scott thinks about reminding Stiles that he doesn’t have to, but he doesn’t in fear of sounding repetitive, “Are you hungry?”

“Famished,” Stiles admits and then tilts his head, “I wonder if you’re able to tell when things are ripe enough.”

“I’m usually pretty good at picking things when they’re ripe, but I don’t know if that has anything to do with scenting, though,” Scott starts towards the hut.

Stiles follows after him, “Next time you pick some, try scenting them first, at least to compare, see if you notice a difference.”

“Okay, I will,” Scott puts the seeds away once they’re inside and grabs the sack of potatoes to start peeling.

Stiles moves around to his other side, watching him impatiently, “When you go to town, you need to pick me up a knife for myself,” he says as he twists his lips.

“Spindle and a knife,” Scott nods as he peels the potato in his hand, glancing at Stiles, “Got it.”

“I wanna be more useful,” Stiles responds, “Some whittling tools would be nice, too, but I dunno how much those kinds of things are.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Scott shrugs, he’s got more than enough stashed away, “If you wanna help, you can stoke the fire.”

“Right, right, stoking,” Stiles shivers now that he’s been made to think about how cold it is and he moves over to the fireplace, “You ever, uhm… just mess around?”

“With what? The fire?” Scott doesn’t entirely understand what Stiles is asking.

“No, not like with the fire,” Stiles says and sighs, “I mean like _fun_ , Scott. Like… you bathe in the creek, do you ever just… swim in the creek? Go for a dip?”

“When it’s really hot out, yeah,” Scott nods easily, “Why? Do you wanna go swimming?” he asks, “It’s kinda chilly out.”

Stiles laughs, “No, we can wait until it’s warmer. But after that, I wanna climb the other side, up the cliff, and jump.”

“But what if you hurt yourself?”

Stiles blinks and looks at Scott once he’s finished, “You’ve never jumped off that cliff?”

“I don’t have a death wish like some people,” Scott points out and chuckles, starting on another potato.

“You’re a werewolf,” Stiles points out, “And it’s not that high. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I…” Scott’s hand stills and he thinks about it, eyes slowly flitting to Stiles, “I’ve never really-why does it matter?”

Stiles moves over to him, “I’m talking about doing something because… because it makes your heart race,” he tries to explain, “Something that isn’t necessary, something that you’ll remember for the rest of your life. Something that makes you happy. Like strawberry flavored water.”

Scott’s starting to gather that so far, he’s lived a stupidly uneventful, mundane life. Because he’s never really experienced the things Stiles is talking about, the only time his heart has ever raced, it wasn’t for a good reason, “How do I find out what makes me happy?” he asks, voice small.

“Simple,” Stiles shrugs, “You try.” He reaches out to take Scott’s hand, “I think the potatoes can wait, come with me, and keep your knife on hand.” He doesn’t wait for a response, just tugs Scott out of the house, heading towards the trees.

“W-w-what?” Scott asks in a gust of breath, shoving his knife in his sheath as he keeps up with Stiles, “Where are we going?” he continues to press, feeling anxious.

“You ever climbed a tree?” Stiles asks, looking back at him.

“Why would I climb a tree?”

“To get to the top.”

“But trees are…” Scott looks up, “They’re tall.”

Stiles chuckles, “Oh, yeah they are,” he says and grins, then he lets go of Scott’s hand and bolts for one of the nearest ones, “Follow after me.”

“What-be careful!” Scott shouts when he sees Stiles beginning to climb, staring up at the oddly daunting bark.

“This isn’t about being careful,” Stiles says, looking back at Scott before climbing up a few more branches, “Come on, get up here, wolf man.”

Scott’s heart is racing now, but he’s pretty sure it’s only because he’s afraid that Stiles is going to fall, “I don’t know,” he says unsurely.

“Scott!” Stiles shouts, pretending to lose his balance, “Come up, save me!”

“I told you to be careful!” Scott shouts back and doesn’t even think about it before he starts scaling the tree, using his claws to get himself to Stiles. Planting a foot at the base of the branch, he reaches out and winds an arm around the prince, tugging him closer, “Are you trying to kill yourself?” he asks, panicked.

Stiles chuckles and looks at Scott, leaning over to pat his shoulder, “No, I was just trying to get you to come up here.”

Scott frowns and looks down, his heart is still pounding violently, “Why-” his voice softens, “Why would you joke about falling? I was worried.”

“You were worried about little me?” Stiles motions to himself, “ **I** happen to have monkey arms, I can climb any tree, and no… I don’t fall.” He leans against Scott and smiles, “But now you’re up, so come on,” he says and moves to climb up higher.

Scott watches after Stiles for a moment, holding on to one of the branches, “Stiles,” he sighs, sinking his claws into the bark to follow after him, “We should go back down.”

“Not yet,” Stiles says and finally stops at the top, looking out around the trees, “In a bit. Get up here.”

“It’s too narrow,” Scott mumbles skeptically, paranoid that one of the branches will snap if he puts his weight on it as well. Instead, he tries holding most of his weight towards the base of the tree, staring at Stiles with furrowed brows, “I’m up, now can we go?”

“Look **around** you, Scott,” Stiles motions, “Take a good look and see everything first.”

“I know what the kingd-” Scott stops talking when he actually takes a moment to pry his eyes from Stiles, gaze shifting across the tree tops and the way the sun is setting against the hills, “Huh.”

“Pretty, yeah?” Stiles asks knowingly, watching the expression on Scott’s face change.

Scott’s silent for a long moment, taking in the scenery, “Yeah,” he breathes out, “It’s nice.”

“And you never would’ve known,” Stiles says and leans against Scott, “One more thing,” he motions to the branch Scott is standing on, “When you climb back down, cut off that branch and give it to me.”

Scott mindlessly wraps his arm around Stiles, looking at him finally, “Why?”

“I’m not gonna tell you that,” Stiles says and grins, feeling his cheeks heat when Scott’s arm moves to hold him, “It’s a secret, for now.”

Scott’s chest constricts in a way he’s not familiar with the longer he looks at Stiles, so he looks back out at everything else, “Okay,” he says, “You’re being odd, but okay.”

“I’m not being odd,” Stiles defends himself, “It’s not odd to want to do something nice for someone.”

“I’m teasing,” Scott points out, smiling and letting go of Stiles to motion down, “Go ahead, I’ll get the branch.”

“I’m only moving down a couple of branches,” Stiles responds, “You’re taking me and we’re jumping the rest of the way down, wolf man.” He moves then, shimmying down a few branches.

Scott blushes inexplicably at the nickname and he shakes his head, “No, we’re not,” he argues insistently, moving down far enough to break the thick branch off, and then further down to Stiles.

“Oh yes we are,” Stiles says and looks at Scott impishly, “You can handle dropping from three **times** this height. Just wolf out first.”

“It’s not safe,” Scott tries to reason with Stiles, looking down at him, “What if I accidentally claw you?”

“You won’t,” Stiles responds, moving closer to him, “You gotta have some more self assurance, Scott. You’re a **werewolf** , this is what you were made for.”

“To jump from the tops of trees and risk hurting people I care about?” Scott asks in confusion, “No,” he argues still, “I could drop you.”

Stiles stares into his eyes, “You won’t drop me, you won’t hurt me. You won’t even break a sweat,” he says, reaching up to touch his shoulder, “You’re not risking anything, but the chance to have a little fun for a moment. Trust me, this is easy.”

Scott stares back and eventually sighs, shivering as the shift ripples throughout his body, “We’re throwing the branch first.”

Stiles grins widely, “Yeah, of course, go ahead,” he agrees, taking the branch from Scott and tossing it out, then moving closer to him, “Now, when you drop, brace for impact. Like you would if you were jumping from any height.”

“If I hurt you, we’re not doing this again,” Scott tells him firmly, his stomach feeling queasy.

“You won’t hurt me,” Stiles insists and looks at him, “I trust you, okay? You got this.”

“Okay, so… how are we gonna do this?” Scott asks unsurely.

“Hold me?” Stiles suggests, “Like when you carried me the first time you brought me back. That’s pretty simple.”

“But what if it goes wrong and I need my hands to catch myself?”

Stiles huffs, “Nothing’s gonna go wrong, Scott,” he says and then moves around, facing him and then wrapping his arms around him, lifting his legs up to wrap around his waist, “This better?”

Scott’s claws sink into the branch he’s holding onto and he swallows, his face getting hot as he stares at Stiles, “I guess,” his voice breaks and he nods, “Okay, so,” he wraps one of his arms around Stiles and looks down, “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely sure,” Stiles says in confidence, turning to Scott, his lips brushing against the warm skin of Scott’s neck, “ **Do it**.”

Scott squeezes Stiles closer to him and tightropes the branch, shoving off and fighting the urge to close his eyes as they fly through the air. He shouts, and it’s the most undignified thing he’s ever heard, but he stops the moment they hit the ground, surprising himself when he lands on his feet.

Stiles doesn’t let go for a moment, but then hops off and throws his arms up, “That was **awesome** ,” he says grinning widely and turning to Scott, “That was amazing,” he touches his chest, “My heart’s racing so fast right now, wow.”

“Mine too,” Scott admits and watches Stiles flail, listening to the boy’s heart, “I can’t believe we just did that,” he chuckles nervously.

“I can’t believe you’ve **never** done that,” Stiles says then, jogging over to pick up the branch and walking back to Scott, “If I was a werewolf, I would be jumping like that everywhere I went.”

“You’re crazy,” Scott laughs a little more, shaking his head as he shifts back.

Stiles gapes at Scott and shakes his head, “I am not,” he says and swats Scott’s chest with the branch, “I’m just trying to bring out your inner animal a little, help you stop suppressing them wolf-y urges.”

“But it’s probably best that I do,” Scott tells Stiles and his eyes flash, “I don’t-I don’t wanna be like… like the others.”

“You don’t have to ever be like others, Scott,” Stiles says then, moving to take his arm, “It doesn’t matter what you are, all that matters is what you do with what you are. And I don’t think you could ever be as heartless as some of them can be. But that doesn’t mean that you can’t embrace being a werewolf, and enjoy that side of yourself.”

“I’m not sure I know how, Stiles,” Scott admits lowly and shakes his head, “This is… it’s probably the most I’ve ever enjoyed… using my strength, my powers.”

Stiles frowns in confusion, “You mean to tell me you never take advantage of your strength?”

“I use it when I have to, but otherwise… no,” Scott shrugs, “I’ve never felt the need to.”

Stiles smiles slowly then and nudges Scott’s arm before he starts walking, “And here I thought it was only me that needed you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember that there are also fics in the [Vault](http://cammerel.tumblr.com/Fic%20Sorter) that I may never post. And I’m even werking on an original werewolf story, so if that sounds enticing to you at all, you can always ask me about it on Tumblr or via e-mail.   
>  -Cammerel


	7. The Breather

“Rrrrr-rrr-rar,” Stiles says as he holds out the little wolf in front of Scott’s face, “Rar,” he turns it then, looking at it for a moment before pulling it back to nick a piece of it’s tail off before nodding, “That’s better.”

Scott blinks around at the odd noises Stiles is making and sits up, looking at all of the wood shavings pooled around the boy, “How long have you been awake?” he asks, but judging by the miniature wolf in his hand, he’d guess the boy’s been up for a while.

“A while,” Stiles says and smiles, holding out the wolf, “What do you think?”

“It’s…” Scott sits up a little more and uses his free hand to rub at his eyes, observing the wolf, “You’re really good at whittling, it’s nice.”

“It’s for you,” Stiles responds, waving it slightly, “It’s _you_ ,” he lifts his brows expectantly.

Scott grins sleepily and stares at it, “I love it,” he tells Stiles, then looks at the prince, “You know I can’t actually shift into a wolf though, right?”

Stiles shrugs, “So? It’s a wolf,” he smiles and looks at it again, “Take it,” he waves it again, “It’s yours now.”

“Where should I put it?” Scott asks for Stiles’s input, looking around the inside of the hut.

“Where ever you want to put it,” Stiles says and chuckles, “He’s just a decoration, maybe on a shelf?”

Scott considers putting it on the mantle, but then he worries that it’ll catch on fire even though he knows it’s not logical, “No, maybe not. I’ll just keep it in my pocket or something.”

“That works,” Stiles lifts up another wolf then, “Oh and this is gimpy. He lost a leg in the war.”

Scott looks at the other wolf, then to Stiles, and he snorts when he realizes that the boy made a joke and he lies back down, still unusually tired.

Stiles collects up the wood shavings, putting them away with his tools before laying down with Scott, “You do realize you’ve slept in a few hours, right?”

“You realize you’re acting like my parent right now, right?” Scott challenges back, smiling to himself as he turns the little wolf over in his fingers.

“Would a parent go out and do your chores for you?” Stiles asks rhetorically, resting his chin on Scott’s chest as he watches him.

“You didn’t…” Scott lowers his hand with the whittled wolf and looks at Stiles’s hair, “Stiles.”

“Scott,” Stiles says back and smiles widely.

“I have a routine,” Scott responds and looks at the ceiling, frowning, “And I never slack, i-i-if you… if you did my chores, what am I supposed to do for the rest of the day?”

Stiles shrugs, “Have some fun, for once,” he says softly, scooting up to look at him better, “Relax, take a breather,” he reaches up to touch Scott’s beard, “Go swimming.”

Scott watches Stiles and stares into his eyes, overwhelmed by how much affection he feels for the boy, “I do have fun… with you around,” he says back, voice just as low.

Stiles stares back at him and his fingers still, “Well, as long as I’m not a burden,” he teases, wetting his lips.

Scott’s gaze flicks down and the moment he feels the urge to kiss Stiles, he lets out a shaky breath and gently moves him so that he can get up, “So yeah, we should go swimming.”

“Swimming is… swimming is good,” Stiles says and sits upright, “We could swim to the other side, jump off the cliff.”

“As long as you’re careful, after we do it a few times the rocks will get slick,” Scott muses and tentatively meets the prince’s eyes.

“Now who’s starting to sound like the parent?” Stiles teases, leaning in to give Scott a look, “Relax, it’s just fun.”

“Well, are you coming or what?” Scott asks and walks backwards towards the door.

Stiles gets up to follow after him, taking off his shirt at the door, letting it drop to the ground and patting Scott’s chest before bolting to the creek, “Last one to the cliff jumps first!”

Scott starts off after Stiles at once, but slows because he doesn’t mind being the one to jump first, even if it’s to make sure that it’s safe for the boy. So, he intentionally lets Stiles stay a beat or two ahead of him, hurriedly pulling his clothes off and jumping into the water after the prince.

Stiles practically flings off his pants the moment he reaches the creek, jumping into the water and swimming quickly across the way, over to a lower side of the cliff. At this point, he’s been naked around Scott so much that he doesn’t even think twice about it. He hoists himself out of the water, starting up the side of the mountain, “You’re falling behind, slow-wolf.”

Scott blushes when he looks up at Stiles and climbs out of the water as well, it’s a little more difficult looking at the boy like this now that he’s beginning to feel differently, “Careful,” he reminds him, climbing up the cliff after him.

“Naww!” Stiles responds sarcastically, holding his arms up as he starts laughing loudly, “You’re so gonna lose. Where’s all that werewolf strength? Pump those legs,” he shouts as he clears a trail through the thick grass.

“I’m pumping,” Scott grunts as he climbs, admittedly holding back so that he’ll be last. Once he’s hoisted up onto the landing, he follows after Stiles and stops at the cliff, looking down over it, “Looks like I get to go first.”

Stiles reaches out to pat his back, “After you, buddy.”

Now that Scott’s up here, it’s really not that big of a jump, so he nods and smiles at Stiles, then reaches out quickly to shove him over the cliff.

“Oh!” Stiles shouts, arms flailing, “Traitor!” he screams before he hits the water.

Scott doesn’t wait for Stiles to resurface before jumping himself, making sure he jumps out to the side a little so that he doesn’t hit the boy when he lands. After he hits the water, he intentionally stays under.

Stiles swims back up to the surface and huffs, looking back up to the cliff and frowning when he doesn’t see Scott, so he looks around the water in confusion, “Scott?”

Scott holds his breath and smiles to himself when he hears Stiles yell, swimming stealthily so that he’s under the boy and he grabs him by the ankle, giving him a split second to hold his breath before he yanks him under.

Stiles gasps, flailing wildly and coughing when he breathes in water, kicking out to get his ankle free.

Scott laughs and ends up inhaling water, so he lets go and swims up to the surface, pulling Stiles with him and coughing once he reaches the top.

“Scott!” Stiles shouts and slaps him on the chest, still coughing as well, “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Scott chuckles and catches Stiles’s wrist, forcing him to splash water at himself, “But your heart’s racing, yeah?”

“My heart was already racing from the jump itself,” Stiles says, spluttering and reaching out to smack Scott on the cheek, “Or should I say /when I was pushed/?”

Scott blinks and opens his mouth to say something, but then he stops. He got so wrapped up in trying to be fun for Stiles, that he didn’t stop to think that he was being reckless, “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, frowning, “I could’ve hurt you, I’m so sorry.”

Stiles laughs at the look on Scott’s face, “Oh, please,” he rolls his eyes, “Calm down,” he says as he lifts up, planting his hands on Scott’s head to dunk him under the water.

Scott makes a sound of protest just before he’s pushed under, gasping when he comes back up, “What are you doing?” he asks, shaking his head.

“Showing you that I’m not a harmless damsel?” Stiles guesses and smiles, “You can’t spend your whole life holding back, Scott. You just can’t. Otherwise… you’re not really living.”

“But you said-” Scott wipes the water from his face, brushing his hair back, “You’re not angry with me?”

“Of course I’m not-okay well I’m a little mad,” Stiles chuckles and shrugs, “But that’s part of the fun,” he lifts his brows, “It’s not fun at all if you aren’t trying something different, and sometimes that makes people a little angry, a little scared. Like me doing your chores this morning.”

“I wasn’t mad at you,” Scott tells him, “I don’t want you to be mad at me,” he says then, because he knows what people are capable of when they’re mad.

Stiles shrugs, “Tough, wolf man,” he says, splashing Scott with some water before turning to go back to the mountainside where they started up it before.

Scott frowns to himself and watches Stiles go, staying in the water to try and calm himself down. Stiles is nothing like Peter, so chances are their definition of ‘mad’ are different.

“Come on, Scotty!” Stiles crows loudly when he climbs out of the water, “We’re jumping together this time, so hurry up!” he looks back at Scott, then starts up through the grass again.

“You can jump, I’ll stay down here,” Scott tells him, shaking his head. He’s not fun, and when he tries to be, he goes a little overboard with it. It’s probably best if Stiles realizes that.

“Okay, but if I’m going alone, I’m gonna aim for you!” Stiles shouts, continuing to laugh before he’s cut off with a loud thump and an: “Oof!”

Scott’s head tilts when he hears the sound, “Stiles?” he calls out worriedly.

“I’m okay,” Stiles grunts out as he stands back up, “I just ran into a tree, it’s good.”

“You have a really bad habit of running into trees,” Scott points out loudly.

“Have a-a bad habit of looking back,” Stiles says and chuckles, running back through the grass to the top of the cliff and looking down, “It’s not fair if you move!” he shouts down, “No cheating.”

“You want me to let you to try and hit me?” Scott asks back, staring up at the boy.

Stiles shrugs, holding his arms out, “It’ll be funny if I hit you, right?”

“Not really, no.”

“Really, you’ll just go under the water, so it’s technically harmless,” Stiles says and grins, moving back out of sight to make a running jump.

Scott’s eyes widen when he sees Stiles falling directly at him, and at the last moment he moves out of the way because physics don’t work the way Stiles thinks they does. If they would have hit, it would’ve hurt both of them.

Stiles comes back up and whips his hair out of his face, “Cheater! You moved,” he says as he moves over to Scott, “I told you not to.”

“It would’ve hurt,” Scott argues, “It wouldn’t have been funny.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, “Aaaah, maybe,” he agrees and lifts his shoulder, “How’s this look?” he asks, glancing down at it, or trying to.

Scott touches Stiles’s arm and frowns, brushing his thumb against the beading blood, “Like you ran into a tree,” he says flatly, taking some of his pain.

“Yeah, oh well,” Stiles smiles and reaches out then, pushing Scott’s hair up into a point as he ignores the pain pulling in his arm, “Not the first time, won’t be the last.”

Scott’s hands find Stiles’s waist as they hover in the water, “Is running into trees a new thing, or did you do it a lot before you met me?”

“Behind the castle back in Beacon Hills,” Stiles starts, looking at Scott then, “We had an orchard, so it’s a pretty common thing, yeah.”

“Good to know,” Scott nods and glances upwards, “What are you doing?”

“Putting your hair up into a point,” Stiles explains, “It looks pretty funny.”

“Oh, okay,” Scott decides to let him since he seems to be getting some kind of amusement from it, pulling him closer in the water.

“See? it’s not so bad having some time off,” Stiles says then, looking at Scott then and realizing he’s larger than he was expecting. He grins, despite being surprised, “Relaxing for once can be pretty nice, huh?”

“I don’t really mind what I do,” Scott shrugs haphazardly and wraps his arms around Stiles once he’s close enough, giving into the urge to be closer to the boy, “But this is nice too, yeah.”

Stiles drops his hands to rest his elbows on Scott’s shoulders, the tips of his fingers brushing down the nape of Scott’s neck, “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying what you do. But everyone deserves a break once in a while.”

“I’m really bad at taking breaks,” Scott responds and watches Stiles, goosebumps rising against his skin at the way the boy is touching him.

“I covered that for you,” Stiles says as he stares at Scott, his heart starting to race because they’ve been a little close for longer than he expected. Normally, by this point, Scott moves away, “I even fed the animals all on my own.”

“Thank you,” Scott says sincerely and leans in a little, bumping their noses together and lowering his voice, “Why is your heart racing?”

Stiles’s smile drops a little, but not because he’s not happy, he’s just somewhat surprised, “I… no **bad** reason, I don’t think,” he breathes out, hand stilling on the back of Scott’s neck.

“You don’t think?” Scott gauges, keeping himself restrained even though he really wants Stiles.

“I don’t think,” Stiles confirms, the corner of his mouth pulling up a little, “It’s not bad to me, at least.”

“But you’re not sure?” Scott asks and brushes a hand down Stiles’s side under the water, “Stiles,” he says hesitantly, feeling like a bad person because of how he feels. It’s wrong, Stiles is too young.

Stiles swallows and shrugs, backing up then, “It’s not bad,” he says, grinning at Scott then, “Come on, we should start on lunch, before it’s too late.”

Scott bites on his bottom lip and fights the urge to frown because Stiles pulled back, “Yeah, okay,” he says, swimming towards the bank.


	8. The Capture

Stiles finishes positioning the wool on either sides of Scott’s head and then chuckles at how he looks, “Okay, no cheating,” he says when he lifts one up, “Seriously. Close your eyes, no listening. Only use your nose.” He waits until Scott closes his eyes before he darts out through the woods, stopping and hiding around the back of one, smiling to himself as he tries to calm his heart down.

Scott tries not to listen to his surroundings, holding his hands out blindly for a moment before following Stiles’s scent. It’s probably one of the few things he doesn’t have difficulty latching onto, surprisingly. He almost trips over something, but he gains his footing and then huffs, “I’m gonna kill myself just trying to find you,” he calls out, then growls quietly when Stiles’s scent becomes more potent.

Stiles feels his cheeks heat at the sound of the growl and he looks around, moving a few trees over then, trying his hardest not to giggle like an idiot.

Scott turns his head when the scent moves and he follows it, stepping lightly so that Stiles won’t hear him. He finds the tree where the boy is, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he climbs the other side of it carefully, using his stealth to his advantage. Even if he didn’t want to use his hearing, he wouldn’t be able to help it at this point, because Stiles’s heart is racing so fast that it’s almost deafening.

Scott holds onto a thick branch and hooks his legs around it, then drops upside down in front of Stiles, “Gotcha.”

“Ah!” Stiles shouts and - on reflex - throws his arm out and nails Scott in the face before running off. It takes him a whole minute to collect himself before he turns back to look at Scott, “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

Scott drops to the ground with a heavy thud when Stiles punches him and he lifts his arms, touching his face and looking at the blood on his fingers, “You don’t do so good with surprises. Got it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Stiles says again, chuckling, and he starts to go back to Scott when a rope wraps suddenly around his neck and pulls him back off of his feet.

Scott’s head shoots up when he hears the choking noises and he growls loudly when he sees the rope around Stiles’s neck, and the people behind him, “Stiles,” he gets to his feet and moves to try and stop them.

“Stiles, huh?” One of the men says and smirks, looking back at the others, “See? I told you it was him.”

Stiles reaches up to the rope, trying to pull on it, “Scott,” he rasps out weakly before he’s yanked up onto his feet and the man reaches down to lift him up, “Scott!” he shouts louder, struggling and punching the guy in the jaw.

Scott flicks his claws out and shifts, growling again and flashing his eyes at the people, “Let him go,” he threatens. He doesn’t like violence, or fighting, but he doesn’t mind doing it for someone he loves.

“And risk losing fifty thousand for this little toddler?” the guy says and looks at Stiles as he grabs his arms, tying them back behind him quickly before laying him across the saddle. He motions to the other two, “Take care of the dog.”

One of the men lifts his crossbow, aiming it at Scott and shooting him in the arm with a dart.

“Scott!” Stiles shouts, trying to see him.

Scott hisses in pain and pulls the dart out, staggering on his feet when his vision starts to blur, “Stiles!” he breathes out, panicking just before he blacks out.


	9. The Prince

“What were you thinking!?” John shouts so loud that a vein in his forehead pops out, “You disobey me and my plans for our future, run away from your intended, only to consort with an omega?”

Stiles looks away from his dad and swallows sickly, “He isn’t just an omega,” he says lowly, “His name is Scott, and he’s a good person.”

“I don’t care **what** his name is!” John yells, “He is not who you’re intended to be with, do you understand me?” he asks rhetorically, “This omega, he’s nothing, and he’ll be executed for hiding you.”

Stiles looks at his father then, his eyes wide, “Don’t-” he says, his voice shaky as he moves closer, “Don’t please. Please, don’t, it wasn’t his fault. If you… if you kill him, I swear…”

“You swear what, son?” John asks coldly and looks his son in the eyes.

“I’ll die,” Stiles says, his voice breaking, tears filling his eyes, “Just let him go, please? Let him go and I’ll-I’ll listen. I’ll marry Derek, just please let him-let Scott go.”

John’s brows raise at what his son says and he smiles, considering it, “Deal,” he responds, nodding even though he doesn’t intend to abide by his side of things, “You marry Derek, and I’ll let the omega go.”

Stiles frowns at the statement and he stares at his dad, “I don’t believe you,” he says, wiping his cheek.

“Unfortunately, you’re not really in a place to bargain with me,” John points out, “I could be lying, but there’s only one way to know for sure.”

Stiles shakes his head, “I won’t do it,” he says then, “If you don’t free him first, if he’s not **free** , then I’ll find a way,” he presses his lips together, lifting his shoulders, “I can make your life miserable, or I can make it really easy. Give me the key, let me free him myself. And I’ll marry Derek, I won’t fight you.”

“I don’t believe you,” John repeats his son’s words from before, then decides to call Stiles’s bluff, “Guards,” he calls out, motioning for them, “The omega, execute him now.”

“Don’t!” Stiles shouts, stepping forward then and reaching out for the thin, sharp letter opener on his desk and stepping back, lifting it to his neck, “I’m not…” he swallows sickly, his heart racing so loud it’s almost all he can hear, “I’ll do it. Trust me, I’m very aware of how to make myself dead within a minute.”

John holds his hands up to the guards to stop them, watching his son and sighing after a moment, “You’re too much like your mother,” he tells him, taking the key from his pocket to toss it to Stiles, “I’ll have guards watching in case you decide to run.”

Stiles shakes his head, “I won’t,” he says shakily, “I won’t leave again,” he lowers the blade, but keeps it, even as he turns and passes the guards. He feels sick to his stomach just thinking about letting Scott go, but he’ll do anything to ensure Scott lives.

He pointedly ignores the guards following him, moving down to the stockades and lifting the brows to the guards there, “I’m here for the omega.”

The guard standing in front of the cell looks questioningly to one of the guards following the prince, sighing and moving out of the way when the other nods.

Stiles steps past them, down to Scott’s cell and he reaches up to unlock the door, opening it and motioning for Scott, “Come on.”

Scott winces in pain as he gets up from the ground, tentative, but he moves to Stiles anyway, “What are you doing down here?”

“Making sure you live,” Stiles says as he reaches out for Scott, cupping his cheeks for a moment before motioning for him to follow, but he stays with Scott, offering his arm as he walks him out of the cell.

“Stiles,” Scott sighs and scrunches his face up as he follows, limping from the beating he apparently took while he was out, “You shouldn’t be worrying about me.”

Stiles doesn’t respond, walking Scott out of the back of the castle, around to the side. The more he walks, the more he can feel tears burning in his eyes and he finally stops, “All I’m… worried about right now is you,” he admits, his bottom lip shaking.

“Hey,” Scott frowns sadly at how upset Stiles is and clutches his face like the boy did to him before, “Don’t be. I-I-I… Stiles, I’ve had my freedom, I had the freedom to choose and… I choose you, so,” he nods towards the huge gate, “Y-you run, I’ll hold them off and stay. Okay?”

“No, Scott,” Stiles says, his voice breaking and he moves his hands, resting them on Scott’s shirt as he feels the tears starting to drip down now, “If I…” he swallows, his body shaking, “If I could be free. If I had a choice... “ he looks at Scott then, “I love you. I-I’m yours. Just know that, okay? Just remember that, for me.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Scott tells him, his voice cracking as he wipes the boy’s tears, “I want you to have a choice, always. So, p-please, Stiles, just-”

“This is my choice,” Stiles responds, trying to sound as firm as he can, “If you stay, they’ll kill you. And I can’t-” he shakes his head vehemently, “I’ll never be free if you die. That’s the one thing I just… I can’t do.”

“Before,” Scott starts and fights his own tears, smiling sadly, “When I-when I asked you how I’m supposed to find out what makes me happy. I-” his chin trembles, “Stiles, you make me happy.”

Stiles reaches up to cover Scott’s hands, he leans up then, pressing his lips to Scott’s because he knows that if he doesn’t do it, he’ll regret it for the rest of his life.

Scott’s thumb brushes against Stiles’s cheek and he kisses him back, he doesn’t even hesitate, stepping closer and holding the boy’s face delicately, “I love you, too,” he whispers in between frantic kisses, “And I’ll come back for you.”

Stiles shakes his head, “They’ll kill you. Don’t,” he says, even as he’s kissing Scott back, his heart racing even more every time their lips touch and he finally stops to press their foreheads together, “Just stay alive. Stay alive for me, that’s all I want.”

One of the guards clears their throat and motions for the prince to follow him, “It’s been long enough.”

“I mean it, Stiles, I’ll come back for you,” Scott tells him, stealing another kiss and hugging him before backing away, “I’ll be okay, just… play along for now.”

Stiles holds his arms out, motioning to himself, “What’s it look like I’m doing?” he looks down at himself, drying his palms on his robes before looking at Scott again, “Just remember that. No matter what happens… I’m always **yours**.”

Scott nods when he hears the truth in Stiles’s voice and he startles when some of the guards draw their weapons, backing him away from the castle, “I’ll find you,” he shouts when he sees one of the other guards guide Stiles away roughly.

“Don’t!” Stiles says back, shaking his head, turning to glare at the guard before turning away, ducking his head down, “Don’t… Scott.”


	10. The Alpha

Stiles likes to think that despite the circumstances, he’s doing a pretty good job at keeping his emotions in check. He keeps his sadness and his rage contained around others, doing his best at being the prince he’s supposed to be.

Alone, in his chamber, is the only time he really allows himself to fall to pieces, only when other people aren’t looking at him. It’s probably best this way, so that no one really knows just how much Scott means to him; the omega is probably safer that way.

His father puts things back in motion almost at once, makes sure the wedding is back on and has a guard detail on him nearly every minute of every day, two at his door when he goes to his chamber at the end of the day.

It’s ridiculous, being a prince and yet feeling like a prisoner. _And it’s only going to get worse_ , he thinks to himself as he packs his things, because now he has to marry Derek, for real this time. He escaped once, but he knows that fate probably won’t be so kind to him a second time.

There's a soft knock on the door, then it opens and Derek lets himself in, closing it behind himself and looking at Stiles, "Still packing, I see."

Stiles sniffles and turns away from Derek to wipe his face, “Yeah,” he rasps, only turning back once he has himself gathered, “What are you doing here?”

"I came to check in on you," Derek says honestly, moving to him, "Don't bother hiding your tears, I can smell them. I know you're upset, but clearly neither of us has a choice in this."

“I have less of a choice than you do,” Stiles scrunches his face up as he looks at Derek, “The only thing stopping you from doing something about this is your mother’s dying wish.”

"Which is not just some simple dying wish, but the last command of my alpha," Derek says, lifting his brows, “It isn't just something I can break, I thought that the only way to get out of it was to have you run away. Even though I was directly involved with setting it up, it wouldn't have been me disobeying my alpha, not completely."

“But **you’re** the alpha now,” Stiles stops packing to try and plead with Derek, “You can make your own rules, you’re a king, you can stop it. Please, Derek, I know you don’t want to marry me either. Please.”

Derek moves closer, reaching out to grab Stiles's shoulders, "I've done all I can. Probably more than I should have. Whether I like it or not, it doesn't matter anymore. I may be an alpha, but that doesn't mean I can just avoid any command the previous alpha has made to me."

Stiles pulls away from Derek, because he really doesn’t believe that the older man has done everything he could have to avoid this from happening, “I’ll never be yours,” he says quietly, making sure Derek knows that now.

"I know that," Derek responds, reaching up to fix his crown, "I can smell him all over you, and I don't want to take that away from you. You know I don't."

“Then help me find another way,” Stiles’s voice shakes as he looks up at Derek, “There has to be another way.”

Derek sighs, wrapping his arms around Stiles as he stares at him, the determination in his eyes, "For now, we'll go through with this. But I won't stop trying to think of a way to get out of this for you. While I could be content having you as my mate, I would rather have a choice of my own."

Stiles holds his tears back as long as he can, but then he sobs, dropping his forehead to Derek’s chest as he cries. He doesn’t want to do this, but there’s some consolation in knowing that the alpha doesn’t want to do it either. It doesn’t make it all any less unfortunate, but it helps.

Derek frowns, his hand moving to the back of Stiles's neck, “I'll do what I can.”

“But it’ll never be enough,” Stiles mumbles knowingly, shaking his head against Derek’s collar bone.

“Maybe not,” Derek responds, narrowing his eyes, “But there might be another way, we'll just have to wait and see.”


	11. The Play

Derek glances at Stiles as he sets his hand down on the desk, "I know it's a lot at once, and you want some space, but you've been quiet all day," he motions with his head, "Come here."

“I don’t want to,” Stiles says weakly, his voice hoarse from crying so much. Everytime he thinks he can’t possibly cry anymore, he thinks about the fact that he’s married to someone who isn’t Scott, and the tears start flowing again.

“I know you don’t,” Derek says, looking down and sighing, “Come here, Stiles,” he moves instead though, walking up to Stiles and reaching up to wipe the tears from his cheeks, cupping them as he leans in to kiss Stiles’s forehead.

“This isn’t fair,” Stiles rasps out and bites his bottom lip to keep his chin from trembling so badly, grabbing Derek’s forearms, “It’s not-I hate it.”

Derek reaches down to unbutton the front of Stiles’s robes, “I don’t like it, either.” He frowns, stopping long enough to untie the belt before pushing the robes from Stiles’s shoulders, “But this is… all we can do, for now.”

“But I don’t want to,” Stiles’s stomach rolls and he crosses his arms to cover himself, “They won’t know if we don’t, Derek, please,” he begs quietly.

“I’m not mating you,” Derek says then, taking his hands from his chest, “Calm down.”

Stiles feels so relieved that he starts crying again, chest still aching because he doesn’t want Derek to get rid of Scott’s scent. He wants everyone to know who he really belongs to.

“I know you don’t want me to cover his scent,” Derek cuts in as he catches the sudden change in scent and he reaches up to take off his own shirt, “But if we want this to work at all, I’ll have to.”

Stiles nods reluctantly and wipes his face, exhausted from crying so much, “Okay,” he concedes begrudgingly.

Derek reaches out, pressing his palm to the center of Stiles’s chest and frowning, “Look at me,” he says and touches Stiles’s chin, “We need to convince them that we’ve consummated. And werewolves… they would know.”

“How do we make them believe it?” Stiles asks and keeps his watery gaze on Derek, setting his jaw.

“Having studied werewolves as thoroughly as you have,” Derek trails, “I’m sure you’re aware of the term ‘play mating’.”

“Derek,” Stiles says uneasily, heart starting to race, “T-that’s-that’s practically the same thing, I don’t-do we have to?”

“It’s possibly the **least** we can do,” Derek responds, “It’s something that pups do, it’s not sincere. It’s more of… a game.”

“But you’re not a pup,” Stiles points out, still trying to reason with Derek, “Pups don’t get off, you will.”

Derek nods slightly, “We’ll both have to,” he says and then narrows his eyes, “Try to think of it as something unconnected,” he advises Stiles, “Even adults play mate for fun. Just think of me as… your brother.”

“Just play mating,” Stiles searches Derek’s face and shakes his head, “Nothing goes in.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” Derek reassures him, “And we don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to. But I’m… out of choices here, Stiles.”

“If it’ll make them believe that we’ve actually done it, then we need to,” Stiles’s hands tremble as he pulls the string on Derek’s pants to loosen them.

Derek nods slightly, “They’ll believe it,” he says confidently, carefully stepping out of his pants and gripping the back of Stiles’s neck, leaning in to press his mouth to Stiles’s collarbone. “I won’t kiss your mouth,” he mutters against the skin, because of all places, Scott’s scent is there most. Derek’s content to cover the rest, but it’s not that common for a werewolf to kiss on the lips.

“Thanks,” Stiles says back weakly and lets out a shaky breath, rubbing his palms out against Derek’s shoulders. It’s probably best if the scent marking goes both ways.

“It does,” Derek responds and growls lowly, his instincts starting to take over. Fortunately, they won’t push him to the point of actually taking Stiles, because the boy really **is** like a younger brother to him, being the same age as Cora (thought that’s still completely different). He pushes Stiles’s pants down, backing him up to the bed.

Stiles stops when he feels the bed pressing against the backs of his legs, dropping his hands from Derek’s shoulders to haphazardly cover himself. He **just** got used to being naked around Scott, it’s not as easy to drop his inhibitions with someone else.

“Shy,” Derek observes and turns Stiles around, his hand resting on Stiles’s shoulder as he motions to the covers, “You don’t have to be exposed.”

Stiles nods and climbs onto the bed, messing the covers up enough to pull them around his waist. He doesn’t like to think he’s a prude, he’s just not entirely comfortable being naked around others.

Derek chuckles, joining him, pulling the covers over them both, “Try not to think so much about it,” he says, wrapping his arms around Stiles from behind, “If this works, if we’re convincing enough…” he reaches up to turn Stiles’s chin, leaning in to brush his cheek against Stiles’s neck, “I might know a way.”

“How?” Stiles asks and touches Derek’s forearms, the nuzzling causing him to shiver.

“The deal is to join the families through marriage,” Derek pushes Stiles down, settling atop him and moving his hands down to Stiles’s hips, “Not to **stay** married, not to bear children together.”

“As if we could,” Stiles breathes out and grabs one of the pillows, wrapping his arms around it and arching his hips up for Derek, “Do you think it’d work? My father will blame me.”

“You’re king now, Stiles,” Derek says softly, “When we do this, you’ll be in his place. He won’t be able to make an order against you.”

“I don’t understand,” Stiles admits, “He’s still king.”

“A **different** king, Stiles,” Derek tries to explain, “As a leader of **my** kind, if we were to part ways, you would still be a leader - a king. If he tried to do anything, it would be an act of treason against my pack, and _yours_. Do you understand now?”

“But how would I still be a king if we’re not wed?” Stiles questions, glancing back at Derek.

Derek meets his gaze, “Our laws are different,” he says, tilting his head, “Humans don’t know this well, but for us, once we do this, when we mate… you are one of us - you’re socially accepted as a leader. Marriage isn’t a binding contract for us, you know it isn’t. As one of us, your name, your family, your people become a part of our community, and that never changes, even if I take on more mates, and… don’t mate with you, ever again.”

“That’s not in the books,” Stiles responds and feels a glimmer of hope, it could all just go away soon if he plays his part well enough.

“Of course it isn’t, it’s not something we prefer humans know,” Derek admits, “Tomorrow, we’ll know if it’s convincing. If it isn’t, we’ll keep trying until they are.” He presses his lips to Stiles’s temple, “I’ll do everything I can to give you the opportunity to make your own choices, Stiles.”

Stiles nods in understanding and closes his eyes, “ _Thank you_ ,” he utters.

“I know it isn’t ideal, but concentrate on getting off,” Derek says against Stiles’s ear, “If you need to, think of him.” He brushes his palm along the inside of Stiles’s thigh, able to feel the sweat slick between them, and his own mind drifts, unable to **not** think of how many times he’s had Cora like this.

Stiles holds onto the pillow and keeps his eyes clenched shut, imagining the weight behind him is Scott instead of Derek. Surprisingly, just thinking that helps, his own length even hardens a little.

Derek lifts his brows in surprise, chuckling as he rolls his hips, his whole body shaking as he presses his mouth to Stiles’s skin. It isn’t easy thinking of anything else, even Cora, considering Stiles’s scent gets overwhelming as he moves. But just imagining her soft breast in his mouth causes his movements to stammer, his breath ghosting out against the back of Stiles’s neck.

Stiles whimpers when the movements cause his cock to brush against the bed, his slit beginning to leak as he imagines Scott’s face, the expressions he’d be making right now; probably some blissed out version of his ridiculous puppy face.

Derek grips Stiles’s thighs tighter, his weight dropping down against Stiles as he turns his head to the cover, breathing in subtly until he can catch her scent and he growls again, lower this time, his eyes flashing.

Stiles gasps at the sound and his mind supplies an image of Scott shifted, his fangs and his furry cheeks. His hole clenches and he arches back, rubbing against the thick knot and simultaneously rutting against the bed below.

The sudden friction of skin against Derek’s knot causes his mouth to drop open, his teeth to grow out as he growls even louder. Stiles’s scent sharpens, but Derek blocks it out as much as he can, concentrating hard enough to take in more of Cora’s, instinctively pulling the cover in closer to their bodies.

It doesn’t take Stiles long to work himself up, especially not with the sounds Derek’s making; the growls easily remind him of Scott’s. With his eyes closed, it’s not difficult to imagine everything else being attached to Scott as well. His length throbs as he writhes back, hardly able to hold still the closer he gets.

Derek shifts fully then, one hand moving up from her thigh, touching her stomach. All he can think of is how easy it could be to slip it in, how she would feel. His eyes droop, breath hitching as he imagines taking her as his mate finally. Derek’s hand brushes the soft skin, _she would be such a good mother_.

Stiles tucks his face against the pillow when the hands shift against his body, Scott’s strong, rough hands. Moaning against the fabric, he comes hard, his entire body locking up with his release.

For a moment, it’s Cora’s scent that seems to sharpen in Derek’s nose, and he can almost taste her on his tongue. He rocks down against her, able to hear her voice against his ear and he mutters against her shoulder, “ _Cora_ ,” just before he comes, his eyes closed tightly as he rides it out.

The voice - the name, particularly - pulls Stiles out of his afterglow and his eyes widen, slowly turning his head to silently look at Derek now that they’re done. It definitely makes a little more sense now, why Derek doesn’t seem to want a mate.

Derek stills when he realizes what he’s done and he looks at Stiles, his heart racing, “I…” he shifts back, hands moving from Stiles’s stomach, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Stiles responds tentatively, “I know you guys aren’t like humans, your lines are a little more blurred on a lot of things.”

Derek sighs and drops his chin to Stiles’s shoulder, “We don’t have lines at all,” he says, voice still shaky as he lets out a weak huff of breath, “I didn’t mean to say her name.”

“We both had different head-spaces, you don’t have to apologize,” Stiles tells him, resting against the pillow.

“I still shouldn’t have said it,” Derek responds and pulls them onto their sides, but keeping his chest pressed to Stiles’s back, “For a moment there, I forgot it was you under me.”

“Pretty sure that was the idea,” Stiles smiles weakly and stays close to Derek despite feeling sticky and gross.

Derek chuckles, looking Stiles in the eyes again, “I guess now it makes sense why I haven’t married yet.”

“It’s not taboo for you, so why don’t you?” Stiles asks curiously then, “Mate her, I mean. Marry her, even.”

“I had to wait for this,” Derek explains, brushing a hand over Stiles’s shoulder, “I had to be married to you first. Humans would’ve taken offense.”

“But you’ll take her after this, right?” Stiles presses, “I mean you should, if she’s who you want.”

Derek smiles slightly, “I’ve wanted her for years now,” he admits shamelessly.

“What does she think of all this?”  


“She’s not happy about it,” Derek says and sighs, “We had considered moving past it after you’d been gone for a year. But… well…”

“I’m sorry,” Stiles apologizes and shakes his head, “I didn’t mean to get caught, I just-I get too comfortable around him, most of the time I forgot that people were even looking for me.”

“Don’t apologize,” Derek responds and runs his fingers through Stiles’s hair, “It’s not your fault. If anyone, it’s your father’s. I tried to argue against him, to tell him to drop it. If you wanted to leave, you wanted to be happy. I was fine with uniting the clans in a different way.”

“He hasn’t really been the same since my mom died,” Stiles muses, “He doesn’t really see reason anymore.”

Derek nods in understanding, “He’s become as stubborn as her. Just because it’s a tradition, doesn’t mean we can’t change things. But maybe with you, things will eventually change.”

“Maybe,” Stiles responds, trying to be as optimistic about it as he can, given the circumstances.


	12. The Betas

“Not this,” Derek takes the crown from Stiles’s head and sets it down, “Around our people, you don’t wear the crown. You can wear it on occasions where your father is present, but for now, just leave it in here.” 

“You don’t really have to tell me twice,” Stiles insists, he actually kind of hates wearing the stupid thing anyway. It gives him headaches.

“Werewolves are very affectionate outside of their bedrooms,” Derek says then, pulling on his shoes, “There will be lots of touching.”

“Uh, okay,” Stiles nods and waits for Derek, “I think I read something about that.”

Derek joins him then, “If they’re **not** touching you, that’s when you know that they’re not convinced. It’s not a bad thing, but it does mean that we’ll have to be more intimate.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t mean that I would have to mate you,” Derek clarifies, “I mean that we would have to be closer, _longer_ , I might have to mark you some.”

“While we’re alone, or in front of them?” Stiles asks unsurely.

Derek tilts his head, “Possibly both,” he muses, but then he reaches out for the back of Stiles’s neck, “But we should be fine, come on.”

Stiles lets out a nervous, shaky breath and lets Derek lead the way. It’s basically the moment of truth, finding out whether or not the others believe they mated.

“Relax,” Derek mutters, “If they touch you, you don’t have to do the same,” he explains to Stiles, trying to come off casual, as though he would explain this to Stiles any other time. Most humans don’t know how to interact with werewolves as it is.

Stiles tries to relax and intentionally stays next to Derek, just in case this suddenly takes a turn for the worse, “Okay,” he mutters, able to feel people looking at him.

“About time you’re out of your den,” one of the werewolves near them says as he stands up from the side of the wall, moving over to them to pull Derek into his arms, “I was beginning to think I’d have to send Cora in after you to get you to resurface.”

Stiles stands still and watches as Derek hugs the other werewolf back, silent and trying to keep to himself. But he feels guilty almost at once when he sees Derek’s sister, Cora, staring at him with a scowl and her arms crossed.

Derek hugs Boyd back, lifting a brow when the beta moves to Stiles and hugs him as well. He tries not to feel **so** relieved, just in case others notice and question it. He looks at Cora then too and makes a motion to her with his head, “Come here.”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Cora tells her brother bitterly and frowns when Isaac touches the human’s shoulder. She’s not an idiot, she knows that scent.

Derek sighs and moves over to her himself, “Don’t be like that,” he says, frowning, “You know very well that it was necessary,” he stares at her flatly for a moment, squeezing her arm in hopes that she’ll understand what he means.

Cora stares up at her brother in hurt, mouthing ‘ _you told me you wouldn’t do it_ ’ so that the others won’t hear her. 

Stiles doesn’t really know how to react to the affection, so he just hugs back when he’s hugged and nods politely to anyone else that touches him.

“Cora,” Derek says lowly, reaching up to cup her cheek as he leans in to touch her forehead, his other hand moving to take hers. He shakes his head subtly, just enough that she would notice.

Cora watches Derek carefully and then her eyes shift to Stiles, scenting the air more deeply this time. They both smell like sex, but she trusts Derek, so she sighs and reaches up to hug him tightly, intentionally nuzzling against his neck.

Boyd watches the two and chuckles, looking down at Stiles and nudging him, “You’ll get used to it,” he says, smirking, “Those two are inseparable.”

“It’s endearing,” Stiles shrugs and smiles to himself.

“Get a room,” Erica says as she walks by them and rolls her eyes, moving over to Stiles and draping her arm over his shoulders, leaning in to touch her nose to his cheek, “I know neither of you went into this willingly,” she points out, smiling when Derek’s shoulders go tense, “But, you know, if you wanted to have a choice… you’re always welcome to take on multiple mates, with us.”

“Uh,” Stiles’s voice squeaks and he awkwardly pats her side, “I’ll remember that,” he tells her, unsure of how he’s supposed to respond.

Erica lifts her brows, “Oh, but you want the _omega_.”

“What?” Stiles asks, suddenly nervous.

“Everyone here knows that you want Scott McCall,” Boyd says then, looking to Derek, “And you two are already involved, so why not just… you know, you have your sister,” he motions to the alpha, “And Stiles can be with his… little omega wolf.”

Derek stares at Boyd in surprise, “Have you three been talking about this?” he asks, looking at Isaac.

“You’re not very good at covering your scent,” Isaac tells Derek, “And Cora’s always in your den. We’re not stupid.”

Derek sighs and looks around at the three betas, “You think it’ll bother others?”

Erica shrugs, “You’re the alpha,” she says dismissively, “It’s your choice.”

Boyd nods as well, “Your call, boss.”

Stiles glances at Cora, smiling at the hopeful way she’s staring at Derek, then he looks to the alpha and shrugs, waiting to see what he says.

“I don’t see why we shouldn’t,” Derek says then, turning from the betas to his sister, “I want you as my mate.”

“Really?” Cora asks with restrained excitement, causing her voice to tremble as she stares at her brother.

Derek nods, reaching out to take her by the back of her neck, “You know I do.”

Erica makes a fake gagging sound, “So romantic,” she says and looks at Stiles then, “These two.”

“I think it’s kinda cute,” Stiles admits and smiles wider when Cora bounces on her toes and lifts up to kiss Derek.

Boyd nudges Stiles then, “You think your omega is okay with you coming back? You don’t think he’s moved on since you last saw him?”

“Honestly, he’s probably trying to figure out some big, heroic way to bust me out of here,” Stiles tells him, “Hey, I have a question.”

Derek looks back at Stiles then, his arm around Cora’s waist, “What is it?”

“When Peter was alpha, he took on slaves and maids,” Stiles starts, “Scott’s mom, is she still here?”

Erica looks up to Derek, “Is he talking about Melissa?” she asks in confusion.

Derek nods, “Yeah,” he brushes his fingers along the side of Cora’s stomach, “She’s not a maid, anymore. She’s mated to one of the betas.”

“But she’s free?” Stiles asks and narrows his brows.

“She’s free, but she’s very busy,” Boyd explains, “She’s one of the human consults helping us to make an alliance with the Argents.”

“How long has she been free?” Stiles presses.

Derek frowns as he considers it, “Not that long, about a month or so.”

“Would you mind if I brought him here, to see her?” Stiles asks Derek hopefully.

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t be able to,” Derek says and smiles, “You would have to make arrangements, first. As Vernon said, she’s quite busy lately. She’s also pregnant.”

“Oh, wow,” Stiles makes a surprised face and nods, “Okay, who do I talk to?”

“I’ll look into it,” Boyd offers, “It might take a week or so, but I’ll have a letter sent to Scott when we can arrange for it.”

Erica nods and then looks at Stiles, “And we can get you out there tomorrow, if you want. But I think the others are at least expecting a meal.”

“Tomorrow is okay,” Stiles nods again, smiling slightly, “I don’t really remember how to get there, anyway.”

“I don’t mind accompanying you out there,” Erica says and smiles, “I kind of want to drop in and see the Argent’s daughter, anyway.”

Derek looks at her pointedly, “Erica-”

“Shut up, boss,” Erica says and winks at him, then motions to them, “So, dinner?”


	13. The Mate

“You smell so anxious, it’s making me sick,” Erica complains, scrunching up her face.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles flails a little bit, “I just really miss him.”

Erica rolls her eyes, “You sound like a teenager.”

Stiles snorts, “Probably because I **am** a teenager?” he suggests, drying his palms on his pants, “Do you smell anything from here? Hear anything? Anything bad?”

Erica tilts her head and listens carefully, shrugging, “I hear metal clinking, that’s about it. Calm down.”

“Metal clinking?” Stiles asks and tilts his head, “What’s that supposed to mean?” his heart’s starting to race, he’s so nervous he might actually faint and fall off of his horse.

“It means… that if your wolf man is planning on saving you like you said, he’s probably doing something silly and pointless like making his own armor,” Erica muses, “Seriously, calm down, I can barely hear.”

Stiles sighs impatiently and lays down flat on his horse, startling it for a moment, but it continues on, “Sorry, Baxter,” he says, patting it’s hair, “I’m _so nervous_ ,” he groans out, “Scott shouldn’t be making armor, he’s not the fighting type. Last I checked, he wasn’t even smithing things.”

“People do stupid things when they care about someone,” Erica tells him, tapping her heel against the horse to get it to go a little faster.

“If he let the farm go to crap to make weaponry, I’m gonna punch him,” Stiles mutters and sits up then, peering through the woods.

“If he let the farm go to crap to make weaponry, you should hug him and kiss him,” Erica shakes her head, “And then help him fix things. If he did that, it’s obvious he cares about you, idiot.”

“I didn’t want him to sacrifice his livelihood for me,” Stiles says then, pressing his lips together as the house comes into view finally.

“Scott’s had the farm since he was sixteen, he’s probably not as bad off as you think he is,” Erica mutters and lifts her brows when she sees the wilting crops, smiling when she hears Scott drop whatever it is he had in his hands.

Stiles hops off of Baxter and pats his nose, smiling slightly when the horse nibbles playfully at his fingers and he looks at Erica, “I think I’m good from here, you can go back to the main road.”

Erica nods and smiles wider when Scott bursts out of the hut looking like a wild man, unkempt and smudges of black on his face. She pulls the reigns and steers the horse in the other direction, just as she hears Scott say Stiles’s name and the unmistakable sound of running.

Stiles turns back and grins, running to Scott as well. He’s a little weighed and slowed down by his robes, but he ignores them as he holds his arms out the moment he reaches Scott, all but jumping at him and latching on.

“Stiles,” Scott says the name again, somewhat in shock as he holds the boy’s body desperately, breathing him in and he tilts his head back at the scent.

“Sorry about that,” Stiles says sheepishly as he looks at Scott, “I-I did what I had to do to get here.”

As Scott stares at Stiles, he realizes that he doesn’t even care that he smells like another werewolf, he’s just glad to have the boy back, “It’s okay,” he says, embracing him again.

Stiles wraps his arms and legs around him as he starts to feel the tears building up in his eyes, “I’m yours, Scott. You know I am.”

“I know,” Scott nods and holds Stiles’s body close, getting the boy’s clothes dirty just from touching him, “I know, I was trying-I was gonna come for you.”

“I told you not to,” Stiles says, smiling as he starts sobbing, his fingers brushing through Scott’s sweat-soaked hair. 

“I know you did,” Scott responds softly and tightens his hold on the boy, kissing his neck when he hears the sobs, “But I wanted to, I really did. I was going to, but then-now you’re here.”

Stiles feels chill bumps rise up on his skin, nodding as he presses his face against Scott’s shoulder, “I know, I-I came as soon as I could.”

“Are you free?” Scott asks and turns, carrying Stiles to the hut, “What happened? Is anyone else gonna come for you?”

“I, uh-” Stiles sighs, because it’s so much to try and explain, he’s not sure where to start, “I’m kind of free. No one is gonna come looking for me. They all know I’m here with you.”

“You don’t smell right,” Scott complains and uses Stiles’s back to open the door to the hut, nuzzling against his shoulder and neck as he carries him in.

Stiles chuckles nervously and nods, “Yeah, uhm… me and Derek had to be convincing,” he pulls back to look at Scott, “I didn’t really… we didn’t go… I promise. It was-it was just-”

“I don’t care,” Scott shakes his head and lays Stiles down on their bed, looking down at him, “You’re mine, remember?” he smiles slightly.

Stiles nods at once and brushes his fingers through Scott’s hair, “I am… I am yours,” he says and leans up to kiss him, “But I mean that I didn’t give myself to him, I’m still a virgin.”

Scott kisses Stiles back deeply, draping his larger, sweaty body over the boy’s, “Do you want it to stay that way?”

Stiles blinks, his heart starting to race and he swallows, his cheeks heating, “I-no,” he moves his hand down to Scott’s chest, “I-I’m yours. If you want me, take me.”

Scott nods and watches Stiles, flicking his claws out and using them to disrobe the boy, being merciless with the fancy clothes. He dips down then and presses his ear flush against Stiles’s bare chest, listening to the way his heart’s racing, “Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” Stiles says at once, looking down at Scott, “If-if you want me, take me, Scott.”

Scott huffs and turns his head, kissing Stiles’s chest just between his pecs, adoring the soft skin as he reaches down to undo the boy’s pants.

Stiles blushes at how forward Scott’s being, but it’s such an insane turn-on that he wouldn’t stop it for anything else. He runs his shaky fingers through Scott’s hair, his throat drying as he looks down at Scott curiously, his cock already hardening just thinking about it.

Scott hums in approval when Stiles’s scent becomes more heady, smearing his mouth down the boy’s chest and stomach before yanking the pants down, nuzzling against the base of his cock and breathing him in deep.

“Oh, Scott,” Stiles breathes out shakily, arching his back from the bed. He already feels like he’s about to come, and Scott hasn’t even really touched him. His cheeks heat as he feels it start to build in the pit of his stomach, his hands moving to Scott’s sweaty shoulders.

“ _Mine_ ,” Scott mumbles quietly and nudges the warm cock with his nose, leaning in to kiss the side of it. His lips part then, mouthing wetly at the firm skin and he starts growling uncontrollably, rutting against Stiles’s leg as he takes the length between his lips.

“Scott,” Stiles barely manages out in a tight, low voice before he comes. His hand stills on Scott’s skin and his toes curl, “Oh, sorry.”

Scott’s surprised by the sudden come in his mouth, but he swallows it without thinking and curls his tongue against the slit before kissing back up his stomach, “It’s okay,” he insists, reaching down to undo his own pants.

Stiles smiles weakly, wetting his lips, “I… I don’t think that’s ever happened so fast before,” he admits and his gaze drops to Scott’s hand, “I… I’ve never really-I… hadn’t even really thought of… of your mouth on my…”

“Was it okay?” Scott asks breathlessly, hesitating instead of pushing his own pants down, “For me to-to do that, I mean.”

“More than okay,” Stiles says, combing Scott’s bangs back and then brushing the side of his beard, “I told you - I meant what I said: I’m yours.”

Scott nods and pushes his pants down then, kicking out of them and taking a moment to look down at their bodies, “Tell me if I hurt you, and I’ll stop,” he tells Stiles, looking up then.

“You won’t hurt me,” Stiles says confidently, smiling at him as he leans up to kiss Scott.

Scott reaches out to the tub of lube that he keeps next to the bed, dipping his fingers in it before reaching down and slowly sinking a finger into Stiles. God knows he didn’t learn this from Peter, he had to learn patience and gentle touches from strangers instead. He drops to an elbow and watches the boy’s face, affectionately kissing his chin, and then the bow of his upper lip.

Stiles shifts in surprise and his mouth opens in awe, eyes wide as he reaches up to touch Scott’s cheeks, kissing him whenever he can.

Stiles is already relaxed, but Scott still takes his time making sure the boy is loose, tentatively working fingers in one by one until he’s comfortably got three inside of him. Bumping their noses together, he removes his fingers and reaches for more slick, coating himself and carefully gripping himself, pointedly kissing Stiles as he pushes the head of his cock in.

“Oh,” Stiles’s eyes widen even more, if it’s possible, and he looks down, his cock jumping slightly at the slick pressure. He drops his head back finally and moves his hands to Scott’s shoulders, “Oh… wow.”

“Is it okay? Are you okay?” Scott asks worriedly in a gush of breath and very gradually sinks in, making sure to be careful with Stiles.

Stiles nods a few times, “Yeah, it’s okay,” he says as he wraps his legs around Scott, smiling as he stares up at him, “It feels… kind of strange.”

“It’ll get better,” Scott tells him breathily, not moving at the moment so that Stiles can adjust to his girth. As he waits, he kisses Stiles, adoring the boy and smearing his mouth across his cheek, down against the side of his neck. After a moment, he rolls his hips and stifles a groan against Stiles’s skin.

Stiles lets out a weak gasp of breath, his fingers curling against Scott’s shoulders, his whole body tensing as he tightens his thighs, “Scott,” he moans out, turning to bare his throat for Scott.

Scott’s not even an alpha, but the submission causes him to growl and he nips gently at the skin, rocking his hips quicker. He’s thrusting in so hard at this point that he’s shifting Stiles against the rough bed, and he doesn’t want the boy’s skin to be rubbed raw, so he wraps an arm around him and pulls him up off of it and into his lap.

The change of position throws Stiles for a loop, and he doesn’t know why he’s so confused, but he hadn’t ever really considered something like this while sitting up. His cheeks flush at once, and he isn’t sure what to do with his hands for a moment, so he just wraps his arms around Scott’s neck, dropping his head back. It feels, if he’s being honest with himself, a little dirty to have sex sitting upright.

Scott reaches down then and hooks his arms under Stiles’s thighs, holding onto him by his ass and guiding his hips up, then yanking him down on his cock as he moans. He lashes his tongue out against Stiles’s throat, flicking it up against his chin before kissing it, “Look at me.”

Stiles swallows at the words and, as embarrassed as he is right now, he looks at Scott. The sound of their sex is probably going to haunt him for the rest of his life, but it feels amazing. He nearly chokes on his breath at the expression on Scott’s face, smiling weakly as he leans in to touch their noses together when he can.

Scott smiles back and nuzzles the boy affectionately, slowing the movement of his hips and focusing on working his knot for a moment, “I love you,” he whispers, kissing Stiles on the lips before kissing his flushed cheek.

“I love you, too,” Stiles breathes out, smiling widely when Scott kisses his cheek. He moves his hands then, tentatively brushing them through Scott’s beard before leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek as well, “I love you so much, Scotty.”

Admittedly, Scott’s heart starts pounding a little faster than usual and for the first time in a long time, he actually feels special. If someone like Stiles loves him, then he has to be special, right? He lets out a slow breath and ruts up, cautiously working his knot into the boy and watching his face so he’ll know if he hurts him.

Stiles winces slightly at the pressure and lets out a bated breath, his hands dropping down to Scott’s chest, “I’m okay,” he pants out, resisting the urge to look away from Scott. He’s not sure how he’ll be able to look at Scott again without thinking about this, and probably wanting it every hour of the day.

“I’m trying to be easy,” Scott grunts out and moves his hands, wrapping his arms around Stiles instead. It feels more intimate, embracing the boy like this.

“You’re not hurting me,” Stiles assures him, one finger brushing curiously over his left nipple, his thighs tightening around Scott.

“You-” Scott starts to argue, because he saw the pained expression flit across Stiles’s face, but he groans at the attention, dropping his face to the boy’s shoulder. He goes so slow with trying to get his knot in that he makes himself impatient, cock throbbing as he grinds against the boy. It’s close to going in though, he can feel it.

Stiles kisses him again, his other hand dropping down to do the same, “It’s a little pain, but it’s not that bad.” He lets out a shaky breath, “I’m okay, I can handle it, Scott. Knot me.”

“Stiles,” Scott whines weakly when Stiles tells him to knot him, chasing his mouth for another kiss. Before, he didn’t want to take the pain away, in case he went too fast and hurt Stiles. But since he’s so close to getting it in, he leaches the pain, taking as much as he possibly can before pulling the boy down on the knot completely, coming almost the second he’s in.

Stiles lets out a weak whimper when he feels the knot press against something that causes his back to spasm, his eyes widening as he shudders and pre-come spills from the tip of his dick. He curls against Scott, moaning in surprise, “Oh…”

Scott pulls one arm back to reach between them, still trying to catch his breath as he curls his fingers around Stiles’s length to stroke him. It’ll probably be a little more comfortable if he gets off again.

“Careful, I-” Stiles barely gets another word out before he comes again. It’s more than embarrassing, his forehead dropping to Scott’s shoulder as he tries to tuck his face away. For a second, he actually was worried he might explode, but as his body clenches around the knot, he loses every concern about it as his mind turns to mush.

Scott doesn’t want to make Stiles uncomfortable or pin him down, so he turns and lies down on his back, bringing the boy with him, gently brushing his fingers down his side, “ _How do you feel_?” he asks quietly.

“Exhausted?” Stiles guesses and smiles widely, curling against Scott’s chest and kissing his skin, “Really happy. I’ve spent… the last few weeks crying my eyes out, this is a nice change of pace.”

“I missed you so much,” Scott tells him sincerely, eyes following Stiles’s mouth and he cards his fingers through his hair, “I was worried I’d never see you again.”

“I was, too,” Stiles says, leaning into Scott’s touch, “But Derek had another plan in mind, and this time my dad can’t do anything about it.”

“You don’t think he’ll even try?” Scott asks worriedly, he can’t lose Stiles again.

Stiles shakes his head, “Derek said he was going to talk with him, to explain what would happen if he tried to send men against me. Basically, since I’m a leader of Derek’s clan now, sending anyone to even ‘check up on me’ would be an act of treason, and it’d cause unrest between them.”

“I’m just glad you’re here,” Scott’s voice softens as he looks Stiles in the eyes.

“What have you been doing?” Stiles asks then, “I saw the farm, you haven’t been taking care of it.”

Scott nods over towards the fireplace, at the mess of iron and his horrible attempt at smithing himself a sword.

Stiles chuckles and shakes his head, “You’re not a blacksmith, Scott,” he says and leans up to kiss him, “Are the animals okay, at least?”

Scott nods and kisses Stiles back, “The calf was born.”

“Oh? What gender is it?” Stiles asks curiously, wiggling a little as he sits up better to look at Scott.

“It was a girl.”

Stiles coos and grins widely, “I can’t wait to see it. I can’t believe I missed that.”

“You’re not gonna be able to see it, Stiles,” Scott shakes his head somewhat sadly.

Stiles frowns, but it doesn’t take much to figure out what happened, “Was it-was it stillborn?”

Scott nods subtly, “I should’ve known something was wrong, considering she hardly moved for a while. I just thought she was about to go into labor.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Stiles shakes his head, “I mean-technically, you could, since you’re a werewolf. But you were distracted, and now you know. It wasn’t your fault.” He leans up to kiss Scott, smiling as he runs his fingers through Scott’s beard, “I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone. I wish I had been here for you.”

“It was just a calf,” Scott shrugs dismissively, it bothered him a lot at the time, but it’s just the way life works sometimes, “But… I wish you would’ve been here too,” he admits.

Stiles kisses along his chin, “Well I’m not going anywhere now,” he says firmly, “And we can fix up the farm, replant. We’ll be okay. It might be a little rough, but we can do it.”

“I have money saved away, it should be alright until we have new crops,” Scott agrees, accidentally shifting his knot inside of Stiles.

“Mh-oh,” Stiles shudders and moans, his legs shaking as he closes his eyes, “I don’t… know what it means… when you do that… but it feels really good.”

“ _There’s this spot_ ,” Scott explains lowly just next to Stiles’s ear, then shifts again on purpose this time, “ _Inside of you. And when you touch it, it makes you feel good._ ”

Stiles moans loudly then, his hands pushing down to sit himself up a little, “You think I would know about my own body.”

“I didn’t know either, not for a long time,” Scott admits and looks up at Stiles, his eyes dropping over the boy’s soft, pale body.

“It feels like…” Stiles rocks against the base of the knot curiously, “Like s-sparks,” he says, hands planted on Scott’s pecs.

Scott closes his mouth and lets out a weak breath through his nose, legs twitching as he rolls his head back and grips Stiles’s thighs, “It feels like we’re never gonna separate if you keep moving like that.”

"It feels so good," Stiles mumbles weakly, "I wouldn't really mind being stuck like this for the rest of my life."

“You won’t be saying that tomorrow,” Scott chuckles knowingly and bites his bottom lip, pressing his feet to the bed to shift up against Stiles’s weight.

"Well then I might as well enjoy it while I can," Stiles says and gapes when Scott moves up against him, his nails curling against the skin of Scott's pecs.


	14. The Contentment

“Oh!” Stiles says when he finishes putting the last seed in the line and looks up at Scott, “I forgot to tell you. I dunno how I forgot, but uh… I asked Derek about your mom.”

Scott stills his movements and nearly drops the seeds, looking at Stiles in disbelief, “You did what?”

“I asked Derek how she was, if he knew about her,” Stiles says then and smiles, “She’s not working for the werewolves anymore. She, uh…” he looks down then, “Apparently she’s mated to one of them, and she’s actually in a kind of position of power.”

“She is?” Scott asks shakily and moves closer to Stiles, still in shock, “How long has she not been working for them?”

Stiles moves over to the next line to continue planting, “Like a month, but she’s been really busy working on their attempt to mend things with the Argents. I asked them if I could take you there to see her.”

“Hey,” Scott reaches out for Stiles to stop him, “That can wait,” he pulls the boy closer, “What did they say?”

Stiles looks at Scott again and smiles, leaning against him, “Boyd said he’d schedule a time that would work for her. He said he’d send a letter whenever they had a chance to talk.”

Scott’s brows furrow together as he stares at Stiles, eyes glistening, and he reaches up then to grab Stiles by the face before kissing him, “Thank you.”

“Don’t-” Stiles kisses him back, hands reaching out for Scott’s waist as he moans against Scott’s mouth and finally pulls back, “Don’t thank me. She’s your mom, I had to try.”

“I haven’t seen her in eight years, Stiles,” Scott points out and takes another kiss, feeling a mix of excited, nervous and anxious, “This is big for me,” he says against Stiles’s mouth, “So yes, thank you.”

Stiles stares up at him, “Oh, one more thing uhm…” he frowns, not sure if he should tell Scott or not, but he withholds it, shaking his head, “Nevermind, it’s-your mom should tell you that, not me.”

“You can tell me,” Scott insists and suddenly the mixture of emotions all turn to dread.

“Oh, no no, it’s nothing bad,” Stiles says at once, reaching out to touch his shoulders, “It’s… it’s just really personal, and it’s not much of my business. She should be the one to tell you.”

“But you’re sure it’s nothing bad?” Scott feels the need to clarify.

Stiles nods a couple of times, “Yeah, it’s not bad, I promise,” he reaches up then, touching Scott’s cheek, “But it does mean that she probably won’t be moving back out here.”

Scott slinks his arms around Stiles and frowns again, trying to figure out what he means, “Why not?” he asks softly.

“She’s settled with one of the werewolves in Derek’s clan, so she lives there now. And now that she’s working with the Argents, chances are she’ll be needed for that,” Stiles responds and leans up to kiss him, “When you see her, you’ll understand.”

“When I see her?” Scott asks in confusion and kisses back, almost tilting Stiles backwards as he does so, “What, is she pregnant?” he asks jokingly.

Stiles’s eyes widen and he blushes, neglecting to respond as he tries to distract Scott, scratching his beard and kissing him back.

Scott smiles and clutches Stiles’s body closer to his own, “You know, we could always finish tomorrow…” he trails.

“I’m okay with that,” Stiles says as he flicks his tongue out over Scott’s bottom lip, his other hand moving to the back of Scott’s neck. He kisses down to Scott’s jaw, grazing his teeth over his skin, “Got something else in mind?”

“I just want you,” Scott shrugs, eyes fluttering a little at the ministrations before he starts walking Stiles backwards towards the hut.

Stiles looks up at him and stares into his big, beautiful brown eyes, “I’m yours,” he says and moves his hands down to take off Scott’s shirt, “Have me all you want.”

Scott tosses his shirt on the ground and grins before dipping down, throwing Stiles over his shoulder to carry him inside, “Or you could ‘have’ me,” he suggests.

Stiles’s eyes widen and he tries to look back at Scott, planting his hands on Scott’s lower back to try and lift back up, “What?” he asks, his cheeks glowing, “Y-y-you mean…” he can’t even _say_ it, just thinking about it makes him feel like he might set himself on fire or something.

Scott carefully lowers Stiles on the bed and throws his knees on either side of the boy, straddling him and lifting his brows, “I mean take me,” he nods, “I wanna feel you.”

“Scott,” Stiles mumbles shakily, his hands reaching out instinctively to rest on Scott’s hips and he stares at him, looking over his body before nodding as well, “Yeah,” he clears his throat when his voice breaks, “Y-yes, I… I want t-to have… you.”

Scott snorts affectionately at the look on Stiles’s face and bends down to kiss him, reaching between their bodies to grip the boy’s cock in order to get him hard, “Have me all you want,” he repeats Stiles’s words from before.

“Oh,” Stiles drops his head back, his hands moving from Scott’s waist to run up his stomach, to his chest, then back down, brushing his fingers through the soft trail of hairs leading down to his dick and he feels a little more confident now. They’ve only been at this constantly, he’s gotten to the point where he doesn’t come after two seconds of being touched, “I… I won’t-I won’t hurt you?”

Scott shakes his head and lets go of the hardening length to undo Stiles’s pants, “Just do me the way I do you,” he explains, “It’ll be fine.”

Stiles nods a few times, reaching down to untie Scott’s pants, helping him out of them before blindly reaching out for the lube.


	15. The King

“Uhm, so,” Stiles looks between them before motioning to Derek, “This is Derek,” he says and smiles at Scott, “And his sister, Cora.”

Derek lifts a brow at Scott, stepping forward and sizing him up for a moment, scenting the air subtly.

Scott watches the alpha warily and then offers a hand, “I remember you,” he says, looking between Derek and the girl, “Both of you.”

“Derek, stop trying to scare him,” Cora sighs, rolling her eyes at her brother.

Derek looks back at his mate and smirks at her, then turns to Scott and nods, “I remember. You were Peter’s,” he narrows his eyes, then reaches out to take Scott’s hand, but pulls him in then, wrapping his other arm around Scott and touching the center of his back.

Stiles blinks in surprise and smiles slowly, “Aww.”

Scott’s eyes widen and he looks at Stiles, tentatively patting Derek’s biceps, “Nice-nice to see you again,” he says, his voice shaking.

“Scott?” a voice says from behind him.

The voice triggers some kind of reaction and Scott’s eyes water almost at once, shoulders stiffening as he pulls back from Derek and turns slowly. The moment he sees his mom and her swollen stomach, his mouth drops open and he moves to her quickly, wrapping her up in his arms, “Mom.”

“Sweetheart,” Melissa responds, hugging him back, cupping the back of his head in one hand as she kisses his cheek, “I’ve missed you so much.”

Stiles smiles as he watches the two, trying not to get choked up himself so he looks away, watching as Derek comes back to stand by his sister to give the two a moment.

“I missed you, too,” Scott says, but it breaks up and turns into a sob. He tightens his hold on her, mindful of her stomach as the tears dribble down his cheeks, “I can’t believe you’re okay, a-a-and pregnant. I’m gonna be a brother.”

Melissa chuckles softly, smoothing her hand over his back before reaching up to wipe her eyes, “I… to tell you the truth, I didn’t think I’d have another,” she says honestly, smiling, “Not after I thought I’d lost you. I’m so proud of you. Look at you,” she pulls back to actually look at him, “You’ve gotten so big since the last time I saw you.”

“Eight years,” Scott nods and wipes his face, looking her over. She looks older, obviously, but she’s still just as beautiful as he remembers, “How are you?” he asks her then, sincerely curiously.

“Happy?” Melissa says and smiles wider, one hand moving down to her stomach, “Happier now that I can see you again. I’ve had a few people check in on you for me, to make sure you were okay. And now that I visit the Argents regularly, I can come by the farm and see you every time I go up there.”

Scott lets out a breath and chuckles, nodding, “That’d be great,” he tells her, reaching out suddenly and hugging her again. Like he said before, it’s been eight years. He’s missed his mom.

Melissa hugs him back again and kisses his shoulder, “There’s so much to talk about,” she says as she looks at Stiles, “Are you two able to stay for dinner? We could talk, catch up.”

Scott doesn’t blurt out ‘yes’ right away like he wants to. Instead, he sniffles and pulls back to look at Stiles questioningly, eyes wide and shiny.

“I’m fine with staying for dinner,” Stiles says at once, “You know I am.”

Scott smiles slowly and looks back at his mom, nodding, “We’d love to,” he tells her.

Melissa smiles at him and motions for him to come with her, “I’ll take you over to our den, get you two settled in so we can talk in privacy.” She looks at Stiles, motioning for him to come as well.

Scott stops and waits for his mate, smiling wide as he holds out a hand for him. It’s all a little surreal, being with Stiles and being reunited with his mom. He doesn’t think he’s been so happy in a long, long time. And he owes it all to the prince. The king, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it. Hope everyone liked the story, but now it's come to an end.
> 
> Remember that there are also fics in the [Vault](http://cammerel.tumblr.com/Fic%20Sorter) that I may never post. And I’m even werking on an original werewolf story, so if that sounds enticing to you at all, you can always ask me about it on Tumblr or via e-mail.   
>  -Cammerel


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